Better to Have Loved and Lost
by J Daisy
Summary: If you're looking for Mary Sues, bad characters, and characters not quite acting like themselves, have I got a story for you! This was the first piece of fanfiction I wrote, and is still up as a testament to my progress. Read it and weep!
1. Out of Breath

_Disclaimer: I do not own House. It's just not happening._

_Author's Note: Also, I know nothing about medical procedures, diseases, and lingoes so…never mind the technicalities and enjoy! As for the misspellings and not-perfect grammar, I had a random playlist going and unfortunately, Usher had somehow managed to find a spot on there. I was under the influence._

House was where no one expected him to be. No, the chair in which House resided was not in the location of any 12-step program or the cheap seat of a therapist's office.

No, he was visiting his patient.

Technically, it wasn't even _his_ patient. Upon reviewing such a textbook case, Wilson hadn't even bothered to read the name of his would-be patient. It wasn't until he called the young woman into his office did he even recognize her.

"Oh, crap." The look on the terrified woman's face that was sitting across the desk implied that she agreed with him, that she was as disturbed by the situation as he was.

Wilson had rudely asked if he could have a moment to himself before issuing a diagnosis. "You didn't check the name, did you Wilson," she asked quietly. Wilson had shaken his head, and then gently pushed the case file towards the seemingly calm person across the desk. She started to examine it, thereby ridding Wilson of the need to make eye-contact. He didn't tell her what she already knew, just needed to tell her that there was hope.

"The lung has to be removed. You'll probably survive but you'll need a couple rounds of chemo. You…you know the drill."

There were a million questions running through her mind as she looked without seeing at the tell-tale x-rays in her hand. _Probably going to survive? I'm only going to have one lung? What if I develop asthma? Will I have to get a lung transplant? Is it genetic? What if I have kids, and they get it? _

"Will I lose my hair?"

_Will I lose my hair? Your life is hanging in the balance, and you're concerned about losing your hair? What's wrong with you? I can't believe of all the things that you should be asking, the one question you voice is about your vanity. Seriously…_

Wilson chuckled at how surprised she looked that she asked that question. But he quickly dropped the emotion. _What am I thinking, her whole life is about to be turned upside down and I'm laughing at her? What's wrong with me?_

"Yes, you will."

"So…everyone will know. Even if I'm not treated here, everyone will know."

"I would never let you be treated anywhere else."

But her mind had already moved off to other places.

"I'm going to have to tell everyone. My friends, my dad, oh man my dad, my brother, oh no he just broke up with his girlfriend, he can't handle all this…"

Wilson interrupted. "Just like you to worry about other people when you have just been diagnosed with a life-threatening illness."

The look on her face told Wilson that he had said the wrong thing.

"But, but what if I die?"

"Mark my words; the obituary will make the front page. The pews will be filled all the way to back row. Grown men will cry."

She gave him a weak smile. For the first time that day, Wilson had said the right thing.

She had driven home under the distinct impression that the world was made of inflatable objects, that if she happened to crash into a tree or car or house, she would simply bounce back and continue steadily on the path she was already on.

She marveled that after the past couple of hours of her life, in which she scheduled a surgery for Monday, been told exactly what to expect, and to come to hospital or call Wilson at work or home or at his mother's house for anything, she thought she was invincible.

"Forever the idealist" she said to herself.

It wasn't until she walked into her apartment, carefully hung up her jacket, in awe that it would stay on the hanger until she moved it, placed her keys on the end-table next to her turn-dial phone that she realized that she was still supposed to be at work for the next hour and a half.

It was a hectic week at for a certain employee at PPTH. She told her colleagues about the…thing that was growing inside of her (she couldn't bring it to herself to call it cancer). She had made quite a few friends at the hospital and recounting the story over and over again was hard enough to her friends but it was almost impossible to tell doctors and nurses who had heard it through the grapevine. She had told her superiors just as a formality, but was touched when she saw more a few pairs of moist eyes. As for those she was a bit closer with…she had told them as a group, insisting they let her finish before they asked inevitable questions. Dr. Foreman just gave a sad but brief nod, punched her lightly on the shoulder, and told her if she needed anything then he was just a phone call away. Dr. Chase was speechless for a few moments but eventually followed a similar suit as Dr. Foreman, deciding it was for the best to give as neutral a touch as possible. And Dr. House had responded right after she broke the news with a simple "oh" then left the room, making his emotions on the matter unknown to everyone.

Thursday, Friday, and Saturday passed all too soon, and on Sunday night, a woman checked herself onto the oncology floor all alone. By chance, Wilson and House had walked by just as she was finished settling in. Wilson had insisted on going in and checking up on her and House just kept hobbling by. Patient and doctor alike both stared at his retreating form. Finally, Wilson broke the ice.

"So, how ya been holding up?"

"I'm OK, no symptoms as of yet, I've been lucky."

"You're lying; you're not making eye-contact with me."

"Well, I've had some trouble breathing, I get short of breath, but really, it's nothing."

Wilson sighed. "How long has this been going on for?"

"Since the day before I…"

Wilson decided to push her. "The day before you what?"

"The day before I found out."

"Found out what?"

"Wilson..."

"Just say it once and I'll leave you alone."

"I have cancer Wilson! OK! Are you happy now!"

Wilson studied her face. How could he have missed how pale she had become, how thin and drawn her face was, how weak she looked? "No, I'm not happy" he said quietly.

The surgery went relatively well. No complications. Wilson had said she might not even need chemo.

The surgery took place at 5:30 at night due to odd scheduling and her father and brother had gone home at 11:00. It ended at about 1:00 in the morning. House had hobbled by her room just as she was being wheeled out of the OR. A nurse had mistaken him for her boyfriend. She whispered it had gone fine and he had nothing to worry about. _If only._

Seeing as she was all alone, and that the nurse wasn't watching, House quietly walked into her room and tried (and failed) to make himself comfortable in a chair by her head. After staring at her serene face for half an hour, House gently took her hand in his and rubbed circles into it, easing her into the calm after the storm, his heart heavy with the knowledge that the storm had really just begun.

In more ways than he could have imagined.

"_Allison._"


	2. Trembles of Life

_Disclaimer: I still don't own House. $13.81 does not cover it. Until then, please don't sue. Also, I don't own any song lyrics, but I forgot the name of the one I used. Nonetheless, it's not mine._

_Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and read and gotten themselves through it, I know the first chapter was rocky but I promise I know how to do this one, it won't be perfect but it will be better!_

Cameron lifted up her heavy eyelids and did not know where she was. It appeared as though she was outside, as she was gazing into two separate round skies. Or maybe it was two identical crystal lakes and she was looking down onto it.

_The heck? Am I on a plane? Where am I? What's going…oh wait. I remember something about a surgery. OK, I had a surgery, I'm not sure what kind, and now I'm looking down onto two crystal lakes. Oh no, what if I didn't survive the surgery and now I'm in heaven and oh sugar, who's gonna feed the dog? What's up with these lakes? They flickered._

"The dog, feed the dog," Cameron mumbled.

House jumped in his seat. "The dog? What dog? You're awake? Do you need anything? Cameron, Cameron, can you hear me?"

"The lake. Don't let the dog get into the lake. He'll, he'll…drown." Cameron continued to murmur.

House realized that she was talking in her sleep. Gently, he placed one hand on each arm and tried to shake her awake. It worked; she popped right up, Linda Blair style, and did it so quickly that she banged her head into House's. She moaned, and laid her head back down again.

"Oh, thank G/d Cameron, you're awake!"

"Good observation, and?"

"I was just…happy you're awake."

Cameron perked up at this. "What was that?"

"What?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Nothing, I said what I have to say."

"No you didn't, you trailed off and substituted what you were going to say with that you were happy I'm awake."

"Redundant much?"

"Cut the crap, what were you going to say?"

"Really, Dr. Cameron, our conversations have gone to the dogs."

"House."

"Yes?"

"What were you going to say?"

House was just about to begin when Cameron launched into a violent coughing fit. He held her as she shook (_don't shake I hate to see you tremble_), and tried to calm her tremors. Finally, she lay back in bed.

"Yeah, you might want to get a vaporizer or something before you cough up your one remaining lung,"

"That's not what I want to hear."

"_Really_!"

"You know exactly what I want to hear. And you're the only person who says it right."

"Cameron, I…"

She looked at him expectantly.

"You…"

"I wanted you to wake up."

"House, I don't want to have to pull anymore teeth here, but I will. I know you've got it in you."

"I wanted you to wake up because…because…Cameron you know me. I can't do this."

"OK."

"OK, what?"

"I'm OK with that."

"But Cameron…I do want to be with you."

"I know."

"So will you? Be with me?"

"Yes."

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As Wilson predicted, the surgery was so successful that there was no real need for chemo, as the video of the procedure indicated that the only cancer cells were on the lung that was removed. Nonetheless, it was a major surgery, and Cameron was in the hospital for two weeks.

The Ducklings (minus one) had decided to hold a surprise farewell party from the hospital for Cameron. Cuddy, House, Wilson, Foreman, Chase, Stacey, at least 15 nurses that Cameron was friends with, and eight other doctors from various fields had come. Cuddy and Wilson had nervously assigned House the task of detouring Cameron from her route from her room to the parking lot up to the Diagnostics level. They had no choice, since Cameron had woken up from the surgery, they were inseparable. Well, it wasn't so much that Cameron wanted his presence (although she certainly didn't mind it) but as Wilson put it so poetically to Cuddy "House just found out he's no exception to his mantra, everybody lies. He's not about to waste any time away from her." Cuddy just nervously smiled and made a mental note to get House a case.

Finally, the day of the party arrived. It was easy for House to keep a secret, but now that he realized that Cameron accepted the whole package, he just…didn't want to give her anything but the whole package. It was hard for him, but over the two weeks, he had slowly and carefully taken down his walls. Of course, there were some things he could never tell anyone.

House was having a rough time getting Cameron up to the Diagnostics floor. She point blank did not want to go. She did not want to see it for old times sakes because "she would see it again in a week" and would not go up to see Foreman and Chase because "they could come down and see her anytime" and while she was grateful for all their caring and sensitivity, after spending so much time with them and not being able to leave (and not being gutsy enough to ask them to leave) she was very sensitive to their not-so-great traits. House had finally gotten her to the elevator by saying that he wanted to show her the new whiteboard even though Cameron was well aware that nothing had been ordered for their office. Luckily, she was perceptive enough to understand that sometimes it was best to go with the flow.

House was telling Cameron about what a dud his newest case was, but it had been especially assigned by Cuddy so he had to take it. Cameron laughed along with him but her interest was caught by the number which specified which floor number they were on. It had been blinking "6" for the past 45 seconds.

"Ummm, House?"

"Yeah?

"I don't mean to interrupt you, but I think we're stuck."

House looked at the digital sign too. He had only been paying attention to one surrounding, and that was the woman next to him.

"Well, the elevator was bound to break someday."

Cameron laughed and pressed the red "emergency" button. It merely continued showing off its dull red color and made no noise. Cameron pressed it a couple more times, but it didn't work. House chuckled at the look on her face.

"Cameron, I think it might be trying to tell you something."

"Oh?"

"I don't think it likes you."

"But…but everyone likes me" Cameron joked. House gave her a small smile and paged Wilson. He paged back that they would get out of there in about half an hour. Loosening his tie, House sarcastically asked Cameron what they could do in a small room for thirty minutes by themselves.

Cameron laughed. "I can think of a few things," she said in the same tone.

"And what are those things?"

"Well…"

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Unfortunately for Adam, a janitor, it was "Take Your Kids to Work Day." More unfortunately, he had three kids, an immature 14 year old boy, an innocent seven year old girl, and a four year old boy who had the tendency to repeat everything he saw and heard.

But perhaps what was most unfortunate was Adam's very big mouth.

By the end of the day, the entire hospital knew that House would probably be in a very good mood tomorrow.

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Later that week, House and Cameron enjoyed their first "Date-That-We-Both-Want-Date." The next day, they decided to relive their Non-Date-Date, except they didn't get good seats. The day after that, they saw a movie, and proceeded to make fun of the entire thing. This pattern continued for the whole week, until House threw Cameron for a loop and gave her his key. Cameron just took it in her hand and stared at it. Finally, she looked gray eye into blue eye.

"Greg, I'm not Stacey."

"_Really! Well, then we just can't continue seeing each other like this! You should have told me!_"

"Greg."

"_I…I can't look at you right now._"

"Fine. I'll do this my own way. I'm not going to leave just because things aren't moving at a fast enough pace for me. I want our relationship to move at a steady pace, because when we run into some hard times, because we most definitely will, I want something solid for our relationship to fall back on. Greg?"

"_I can't believe you lied to me!"_

"House?"

"_Why can't you see that I need some chocolate, a Lifetime movie, and some time to myself?"_

"Grow up." And with that, Cameron turned abruptly and got ready for bed. Tomorrow would be her first day back at work for three weeks, and it was going to be a heckofaride.


	3. Quarentined Love

_Disclaimer: Still don't own House. _

_Author's Note: I love my reviewers! Thank you so much and keep errrr…reviewing!_

"Excuse me, Dr…?"

House looked up from his gameboy. He was in the clinic, "treating patients." This one was a middle-age balding, rather heavy man who was looking a bit on the sweaty side.

"House. What do you want? Or do you just take pleasure in taking away the precious time I have with the one thing that I have always depended on. Except that time when the battery ran out in the middle of Level 29. I hate you Fernando!"

"Ok then. Do you plan on treating me?"

House sighed. "What's your problem?"

"Well, for the past six days or so, I've had a fever, been feeling weak, general flu-like symptoms, and my feces have liquefied."

"And by liquefied, I assume you mean diarrhea?"

"You shouldn't assume. You know what happens when you assume. You make an…"

"Well, I don't think we have to assume to get that far."

"Hey!"

"Open your mouth. Not that it's a stretch for you."

"Huh?"

House used a flashlight to see down his patient's mouth. As soon as House identified ulcers residing there, Patient #1 of 16 for the day took this opportunity to cough right in House's face.

He sighed. "How long have you had this cough for?"

"Same amount of time as the symptoms."

"And you didn't feel you should include this when I asked what was wrong?"

"Technically, you never asked what was wrong. You wanted to know what my problem was."

"What's your job?"

"Don't have one."

"Of course you don't. Got any pets?"

"My cat just died. Vet said it was something called tularemia or something. Said I should get tested and so should my other cat, Tinkles."

"You didn't include this either."

"Nope."

"And why was that?"

"You never asked what was wrong."

"Well anyway, it appears that you're dying. I'm going to have to get a consult before I can get the quarantine crew in here though, so you'll have to _sit tight_ while I page another doctor."

"Quarantine crew? Dying? But…how will I say good-bye to my friends and family?"

House looked behind him at the now very sweaty man just as he was about to leave.

"Well, I'm just going to assume that you don't have any friends. And don't you worry; your family won't even miss you."

And on that note, House limped out.

It was a very breathless Cameron that met House outside of Exam Room One twenty-two minutes later.

"What took you so long?"

"The elevator's broken. You know that. Which I guess is the reason why you haven't shown up in the office today."

"That was _mean_! Wherefore thou so snappy be?"

"Not as mean as making your girlfriend who by the way has just had a major organ removed just a month and a half ago rush down the stairs to attend an emergency consult on her first day back to work since the said event."

"Are you seriously going to make me repeat the Shakespeare lingo again? Can I just ask why you're in such a bad mood?"

"Staircases are hard."

"Ok. I'll see you later. Oh, by the way, the patient inside has tularemia, but he thinks he's dying and so totally contagious, he can't even say good-bye to his own family. Have fun. Love you, bye."

Cameron stood there with her mouth agape at what had just left her "roomie's" lips. _Love? Love! Love. He loves me. He loves me and this is how he told me? He loves me and this is how he told me! He loves me and this is how he told me. Wow. Loves me. Me. _

Cameron couldn't help herself. She ran down the hall (she had been standing there for five minutes) and chased after House, causing her chest to constrict even more.

"Greg!" she panted.

"Yeah?"

"You told me you loved me!"

"I know."

"You love me!"

"That's a good assumption."

"You…"

Cameron found herself at a loss for words. House took this as rejection and turned dejectedly away.

"Greg? Me too."

House turned back to her. "What?"

"I…I love you too."

_Author's Note: Sorry it was so short but a new one's coming soon! And don't get too excited about Cameron getting better, because her medical troubles are far from better. I'll foreshadow and say that things get much better before they get so worse that nobody can fix it no matter what, but House won't be alone. _


	4. Laughing, Crying, Dancing

_Disclaimer: I don't own nothing. _

_Author's Note: I know this story is kinda out-of-character but gosh darn it, it's my story and they can act however I want them to! And I know it's going a little fast but hey, they know all about each other, they just haven't been dating. Till now. Review my pretty! Thank you!_

It had been a week since House dropped the L-Bomb. Instead of the awkwardness that ensued when House made the "I love you" proclamation to Stacey, things were the same as usual between House and Cameron.

Well, almost the same.

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Cameron had been back at work for two months. Cases had come and gone, people had died, people had lived, it was all the same jazz. That is, until the team had diagnosed 6 year old Jeffery Bruick with terminal brain cancer. The medical squad was trying to decide who was to tell the parents.

Everyone had their separate nominations.

Foreman chose Chase, reasoning that the fashionable mother and balding father would be too preoccupied with Chase's hair (as they had been before) to try and sue the team for not reaching the correct diagnosis quickly enough.

Chase chose Wilson, seeing as he was the Head of Oncology and had so many bad news skills.

Wilson chose Chase, because he was the doctor who was the most familiar with the patient's family (excluding Cameron.)

Cameron chose Chase because the family didn't know Wilson at all, and whenever Foreman told someone they or a loved one was dying, he always just confused them with medical lingo.

House wasn't in the office when the team reached this decision, but no one thought anything of it. He never cared, why should he start now?

Wilson caught up with House a little while later. The staff was on lunch break and Chase would tell Ted and Candace afterwards.

"So, who's the lucky duck that gets to tell the lucky family that their son is dying?"

"It's not funny. He's six years old."

"Doesn't change the facts. He's annoying, obnoxious…"

"Remind you of anyone, _House_?"

"Why Wilson! Are you hinting that I am anything less than perfect? Why, the mere suggestion!"

"Yeah, House, totally out of whack. What was I thinking?"

"And you never answered my question."

"Chase."

"Wrong." House quickened his pace and hobbled ahead of Wilson, who silently challenged him.

"Wrong?"

"Yes. I know you're not used to hearing it but you must get used to it sometime or another." Even as he said this, white hot pains were shooting up House's leg.

"What makes me wrong?"

"Cameron's telling."

"What? Why?"

"Because I said so, _duh_!"

"That makes no sense…fine but your telling Cameron that she's telling."

House raised his eyebrows at Wilson. "Miss second grade a bit too much, Wilson?"

"Insult all you want, you're still telling her."

"Why, thank you for giving me permission to insult you! How am I annoyed by thee? Let me count the ways…"

Wilson nearly tripped over his own shoelaces when House walked right past the open and empty elevator.

"Uhhh, House? You missed the elevator."

"You're clumsy, you have a shiny forehead, your fashion sense is blech…"

"House, where are you going?"

"Pharmacy. You ask stupid questions…"

"What are you going to do at the pharmacy? I just refilled the prescription."

"That's where Cameron is."

"What's Cameron doing at the pharmacy? Are you making her get you another prescription?"

"I dunno what she's doing."

"Then how do you know she's there?"

"My Jedi-mind powers, duh!"

"So you saw her going there."

"And may I just pipe in what excellent detective skills you have there?"

Sure enough, as the duo rounded the corner into the pharmacy, the saw Cameron moving up to her turn at the front counter.

"Hey, let's be quiet and sneak up on her."

"_Grow up, House._" But Wilson followed his friend's lead anyway.

The two were right behind her, but she still didn't realize their presence. Wilson took no note of it but since House and Cameron had gotten together, he had noticed that she was extremely alert and it struck him as odd that she didn't know they were there, and so close to her, so close that they could hear her say very timidly that she needed an early pregnancy test.

Wilson snapped his head towards House so fast he wouldn't have been surprised if he had sprained his neck. House's mouth formed the shape of a small "o" but Cameron still wasn't aware that they were behind her. Wilson turned his attention back towards Cameron, just in time for her pay and turn swiftly around, nearly knocking him over.

"Wilson, wha…did you…"

Wilson closed and opened his mouth like a fish, but didn't know what to say. Finally, it seemed as though House had gotten over his shock enough to form a word.

"Al…Allison?"

Big improvement.

"Yeah, it's…yeah. I might be. I'm going to take it now so…yeah."

"How…how long has it been?"

"Since…?"

"Since your last…" House looked around at the crowded hallway that surrounded the unlikely pair. It seemed he had just realized that they weren't the only two people in the world (besides Wilson, who was numbly following them). "I don't want everyone to know just yet."

"Neither do I, so thanks. And about six weeks. I mean, it's not that long, and I just realized a…a few minutes ago."

"Oh. Wow."

So in silence, they walked to the women's bathroom, with Cameron in the front, House just behind her, and Wilson in tow a few feet back, his mind still too busy trying to process this new information that it never occurred to him to do anything else except follow.

Since House and Wilson were walking slower than usual, Cameron entered the (empty) bathroom a few seconds before House and Wilson. So of course, out of the corner of her eye, Cuddy saw one of her most trustworthy and one of her most devious doctors wandering into a women's bathroom. Cuddy knew that House wasn't doing anything that was more illegal than prescription drugs, especially not with Wilson there, but still, this was her hospital, her job, and she had to keep things at least slightly within her control. And so exactly six minutes later, she cut short the dull conversation she was carrying on with a board member to end whatever it was House was doing in the bathroom.

She walked in just in time to see Cameron and House sitting down very close to each other, and carefully studying a suspicious-looking white stick. Her vigilant eye didn't miss the affectionate way House rubbed her arm and the almost silent but redundant "oh my G/d" from Cameron and the shell-shocked look on Wilson's face. Suddenly, everything clicked.

"_Oh. My. _G/D!"

The three heads snapped up at the Dean of Medicine's. "Are…are you…?" Cameron nodded slowly, then gave a quick but happy sigh/chuckle as she wiped her eyes. "And…and House is…?" Cameron nodded again. She stood up next to Cuddy.

"Well, Dr. Cuddy, I guess it's a good thing I'm the mother because it seems as though some men just can't keep their cool."

Cuddy laughed. When did Cameron start teasing House and Wilson? "Do you know how far along you are?"

"No, but I can probably guess."

"You want to find out for real?"

Cameron smiled. "Sure!"

"Ok, let's go and hook you up to a sonogram machine."

Cameron trailed after Cuddy but stole a peak at the two men that would now just be sitting in close proximity to each other in a women's bathroom. "Actually, Dr. Cuddy, maybe tomorrow. This is all happening a little fast and…" "I understand. No problem. Congratulations. Come on, Dr. Wilson! You've got a little boy coming onto your floor in a couple minutes, and I want you to speak with the parents."

Wilson followed Cuddy because all at this point, it was all he could do to keep from laughing, crying, dancing, and getting hit by a car.

Once Cuddy and Wilson had left, Cameron made her way back over to House. She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was still processing this information and needed some time to think. So Cameron just sat down next to him and tried to grasp the correct words to say and also, although it made her feel guilty, what words she wanted to hear. After a few seconds, a few minutes, a few hours, House gently tapped her on the shoulder, wearing a grin that Cameron didn't know House was even capable of. She knew that that picture would stay in her mind until the day she died.

And Cameron was quite happy with the silence, because sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words.

_Author's Note: Whatjathink? I know it was kind of unexpected and whatnot, but gosh darn it it's my story and I'm rollin' the dice! Please review!_


	5. The Perfect Tragedy

_Disclaimer: House isn't mine. Please don't sue._

_Author's Note: To those that have reviewed, thank you so much! And to those that haven't…please do! Anyways, on with the story. I'm going to try to cram the entire duration of the pregnancy into this chapter, because I have the plot all mapped out in my head, but the real story has not even begun here so I've got to get things moving along. I expect to have the plot up and running by the end of Chapter 6 so hang in there! _

Seven months had gone by in a blur of morning sickness (at least five times a week, usually starting rather early, much to the disdain House, who was _not_ a morning person), odd cravings (pasta with peanut-butter), and swollen ankles.

House and Cameron had argued rather heatedly over who would be their obstetrician. House wanted someone he knew and trusted and that was preferably a woman. Considering the people House trusted consisted only of his parents, Wilson, Cuddy (sometimes) Foreman, (sometimes) Chase (rarely), Cameron, and himself, this narrowed things down quite a bit. Cuddy, Wilson, Foreman, and Chase were all eliminated because Cameron insisted that she would never be able to work with them again and while Cameron really liked House's parents, a medical degree was an unofficial requirement. Cameron would obviously be occupied, which left House. House was fine with this idea, but Cameron would hear nothing of it, because she wanted him to be by her head. Cameron actually wanted to have the baby at another hospital so they wouldn't be fending off their own medical team and various other doctors and nurses who the couple (meaning Cameron) had become friendly with.

House was not happy with this idea, but eventually Cameron had won out, compromising that if she went into labor at PPTH, she would _consider_ having the baby there.

And so it was.

Not.

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Another month passed, and House and Cameron were trying to decide whether to find out the baby's gender. They had many conversations regarding the topic and they all went somewhat like this, and the one today was no exception. House started.

"Dr. Bretter called."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He wanted to know if we were curious about the sex of the baby,"

"Again?"

"Well, I called him."

"That's more like it."

"I wanted to know if it would be ethical to find out without telling you I knew so I could concentrate on only pushing gender-appropriate names on you."

At this point, Cameron usually spit out her (decaf) coffee all over House and today was no different. "_Ethical? You_ wanted to know if something was _ethical_?"

"Don't mock me."

"I didn't know you cared if something was ethical."

Usually, House would have said something sarcastic and hurtful, but instead he looked down sheepishly.

"It's you. I care."

Cameron nearly spit out her coffee again but managed to swallow. She basically choked it down but then looked up and smiled shyly at House.

"Ok."

"Ok what?"

"Call him back. Find out."

"No, it's fine. You don't want to know, I'll wait it out with you."

"Nope, I changed my mind. I want to know."

"No, you don't. You're lying."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"I wanted to know the whole time."

"I know. You're very bad at lying."

"_I wasn't lying!_"

"You just said you wanted to know the whole time but for the past seven months you've been telling me you don't want to know."

"That was because I thought you didn't want to know but you just told me you did because you knew I wanted to know."

House raised his eyebrows at her.

"Well, it sounded a lot better in my head."

"It always does."

"So you want to call and find out now?"

"Nope."

Cameron's jaw dropped. "Are you joking me? Because this is _not _funny."

"Well, when I called again, he was so annoyed he told me the sex and to stop calling unless it's an emergency."

Cameron gaped at him before doing a very good swivel for an eight month pregnant woman, walked out, and slammed the bedroom door.

House walked around the apartment for a few minutes, waiting for Cameron to come out. Their door had a lock but Cameron wasn't using it. After ten minutes, House wondered if she had just forgotten to lock it in her anger, or if it meant she wanted him to go in.

House mentally crossed his fingers, guessed it was the latter and walked in to find a tear-streaked Cameron sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked up at him as he stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do next.

"What is it? Boy or girl?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes. No. Not now. But I have to talk to you about something."

"Oh." House braced himself. _I don't like you anymore, this isn't working out, I don't want the baby to be screwed up, I think it's best if I just leave._ There were so many reasons she should go, and he couldn't think of one why she should stay.

"Well, my friend Ann called, remember Ann, I think I've mentioned her before…"

"Ummm, maybe. Continue."

"Well, she called and she wanted to know if I wanted to go up to New York with her next weekend, just for a weekend, as kind of like a last hurrah before the baby comes. Now, it seems like a nice idea, and I can't think of a reason why I shouldn't but if you don't want me to, then I'll stay."

House marveled at how he could be so dead on and so far off at the same time.

"No, no, you have to go. Your maternity leave starts in two days anyway. Have a great time."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's been a long haul, it's about to get even longer, you deserve it."

"Greg? It hasn't been such a long haul, and for your information, I loved every minute of it."

House smiled, but inwardly he was thinking. _Ok, it's Sunday. She'll leave Friday night. I have six days with her. _

"Allie?"

"Yeah?"

"It's a girl."

Cameron looked shocked. She had completely forgotten about the conversation they had had just a half hour ago.

"Oh. My. Gosh. Ohmygosh. I…I'm having a GIRL!"

Cameron screamed and jumped into a hug. She was laughing and crying and dancing and standing still all the same time and her heart was pounding so hard, she could only guess that House could hear it too.

"Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes!"

"Good."

"Yeah. So I guess we have to…I mean, we can choose a name now."

"Mmmhmm. You got anything new? For a girl so far we have…nothing."

Cameron laughed. Tears of happiness were still coming down her cheek.

"Daniella."

"It's kind of long."

"Kate."

"I've got a better one."

"Good, what is it?"

"Allison."

"What?"

"Allison. That's what we'll name her."

Cameron blushed. "No, no, no, I don't want her named after me. Really, I don't want her to be named Allison. Please."

"Fine, what about your middle name? What is it?"

"Abigail."

"Well, then we could Abby or Gail, or Libby. Libby's my favorite.

Cameron thought about it and rolled it around in her head. _Libby House. Libby House. House walking around the apartment, calling out "Libby."_

"I love Libby."

"Abigail it is then."

Just then Cameron remembered what her middle name meant in Hebrew. _My father's joy._

She smiled.

It had to be fate.

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It was Tuesday, Cameron's last day at work before she went on her much-anticipated and very much-needed maternity leave. She was in the lab, studying, what else, stool samples from the patient. _Oh joy._ Suddenly, she got a backache. She wasn't surprised, she'd been having them for two days now, ever since Cameron had found out about her girl, and named her girl, she'd been having random and sometimes painful back spasms. Even though they hurt, she smiled. She couldn't help it, whenever she thought of her girl, her Abigail, her Libby, she felt warm all over.

Foreman walked in, and was surprised to see that she was all alone. "What are you so happy about?"

"Oh, I'm just fantasizing about the days to come when I won't have to dissect stools."

Foreman smirked. "Well, you'll be changing diapers so it's not _that_ big a change."

Cameron did a mock-hurt look. "Foreman, that was mean."

"It was, but you walked right into it."

"Yeah, yeah."

"So anyway, where's House? Got some blood work back, it's not Q Fever."

Out of the blue, Cameron got defensive. "I don't know, why are you asking me?"

"Well, it's just…he's just obviously is worried about you and I guess he doesn't want you to be alone. You know, in case something happens."

Just as suddenly as it had come, Cameron's burst of protective (for whom she really didn't know) energy left, and Cameron slumped back in her seat.

The warm feeling unexpectedly came back, except it was different this time. It was only in one place and that was…Cameron looked at her lap just as Foreman turned to go.

"Foreman, wait!"

"What's up?"

"My…I think…my water just broke."

Cameron was shocked at how calm she was. Meanwhile, Foreman dropped the paperwork he had been holding, stuttered something unintelligible, and stumbled purposely off, leaving a bewildered Cameron still sitting with the stool samples.

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Many confusions and accusations (House thought Foreman stressed Cameron into labor even though they both denied it) later, plus twelve hours, Cameron was given the ok to start pushing. As a doctor, House thought beforehand that as this point, she would be screaming, but much to his surprise (he told her to scream if she needed to) she just bit her lip. If it was any measure of how much pain she was in, House saw quite a few drops of blood around her mouth. It wasn't grotesque, just…House would have preferred if she yelled.

Cameron was crying, repeatedly said in between (and sometimes during) pushes that she couldn't do it. House did all he could to reassure her, but he could so little. He hated himself for not being the cheerleader that she needed. For more than a few times, he wished he could excuse himself for just a few minutes, just to get Cameron some more ice-chips, and send in Wilson who was waiting right outside on an orange plastic chair, and come back just in time to witness the final push. But he couldn't, he knew he couldn't leave her in her time of need; she would never do that to him.

Suddenly Dr. Verston (the doctor who happened to on call, as Cameron had decided she would stay at PPTH, seeing as she was already there) called out that they were one more push away from parenthood.

House thought it was pretty tell-tale that of all the jokes he could have made there, all he said was "come on, you can do it, your so close, so close."

So Cameron gave it her all. House didn't know when his attention turned from Cameron to the baby, and it was only for a short while, but when he looked back to tell her what a beautiful baby they had, she had her eyes closed and her whole body was slumped back. He shook her gently.

"Al, you did it. Al? Allison?"

Still, no response. All the sudden House was yelling, shaking her but her eyes remained closed and her body lifeless.

By the time the doctors noticed this (it seemed like an eternity although it was only a matter of seconds) House had already realized what had happened and his eyes were moistening. He moved to resuscitate her, but a kind nurse whose name House never learned handed House his newborn daughter and told him that he was too involved, and that they would take care of his wife.

_SHE'S LYING, EVERYBODY LIES, DON'T LISTEN TO HER, YOU'LL LOSE YOUR WIFE, SHE'S YOUR LIFE._

Even as all these anvils were dropping on House's head he numbly left Room 719, not even registering the small weight he was cradling in his arms.

House wasn't out of the room for a second before he was mobbed by Wilson, who mistook his friend's ultimate shock and sadness for ultimate surprise and love.

"Oh, House, she's…so beautiful."

"Go. In. There." House motioned towards the area where his entire life was totally redefined. Wilson stood, unsure of what to do, what House meant.

House stuttered before finally saying a single word. "Aneurism"

Wilson, finally seeing the dawn of comprehension, rushed in there leaving House outside with his daughter, his Abigail, his little Libby.

House took a seat in the orange plastic chair. For the first time, he got a good look at Libby. Every single newborn on Earth was at first a bright bunchy red, but this perfect baby was a sweet rosy pink. His baby. He rocked her back and forth, back and forth. Her eyes were exactly the same shade as his, and they gazed back into his.

"I'll never let anything happen to you. I promise." House whispered.

Suddenly Wilson appeared in the doorway. House questioned him with his eyes. Wilson nodded sadly.

House looked down and, for the first time, noticed Libby was holding his hand the entire time.

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The funeral was held on Thursday. In the chapel, Wilson and Cuddy had sat just a row behind House. As the trio walked in together (Wilson had been staying with House for the past few days until indefinitely, an unspoken but binding agreement) Wilson had gestured to take Libby. But House looked down, and Libby had wrapped her tiny fist around House's finger, and he just couldn't bear to take it off.

During the funeral, Wilson reflected on the past few days of his life, by far more significant than any other excluding nothing. House was trying and failing to hide his emotions. He didn't cry, but Wilson thought he was handling it pretty well. Certainly not be denial, which is what Wilson would have guessed. But then again, everything was different now. Libby had wrapped everyone that met her (House, Wilson, House's parents, Foreman, Cuddy, Chase, and Cameron's cousin…to no one's surprise, Cameron didn't have a lot of family and House was _extremely_ protective of his daughter, ever conscience that as she was born early, she was especially prone to disease. And he couldn't break his promise) around her little finger. The least fussy baby _ever_, she rarely cried and when she did, House hobbled over to her so fast, she barely wasted any breath. Not that she didn't have the strongest set of lungs ever to befall a baby.

Wilson didn't realize the tears streaming down his cheeks until the reverend was almost finished with his eulogy. He looked behind him, and for the first time noticed that not only was every single pew filled to the brim with people, but that there were so many people that some had been left standing at the back of the aisle. Wilson was touched that not only were people standing, but that they would rather stand for forty five minutes straight in a crowded room than walk out.

He leaned forward. "House, look behind you."

House complied and saw. "What makes you so surprised?"

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There was no wake. It was the result of another silent agreement…she was too young, what does a wake matter, why add to the pain?

Wilson had gone to his "old" house to get some more clothes and his toothbrush, which left House and Libby all alone for almost the first time. House, shocked that his newly activated paternal instinct (even more so than when he realized he had one) was pretty accurate, sensed that Libby was exhausted so he put her down as soon as they got home. After that, House wasn't sure what to do with himself, so he just looked in awe at her sleeping form. Perfect wasn't the word to describe it, it didn't cover enough dimensions.

Perfect didn't describe her complexion which Cuddy had assured him it would be peaches and cream, perfect didn't describe how sweet she smelled, perfect didn't describe how docile she was and how she already knew what her father needed and wanted from her, and perfect didn't describe Libby because she was Allison's daughter.

It had to be fate.

_Author's Note: Wow, that was my longest one yet and definitely my most explosive chapter. Holy cow, how sad was that? And how much did you love the "Abigail…my father's joy"? I know it's corny but I couldn't think of a name so I went to this website with all the translations and I saw it and I couldn't not use it. And please review! BTW…should I change the title…I think maybe when I mention people's hands (well, mostly how Libby keeps holding on to House's) it's too subtle. Again…review! Pretty please! Oh, and sorry if it's out of character, I try but it's hard with this kind of situation. I did the best I could._


	6. Her Baby

_Disclaimer: House isn't mine but Libby, Dr. Fletcher, Dr. Brenner, and Dr. Harrison are. That's about it. _

_Author's Note: Wow, that was some intense chapter! I would like to thank all my lovely reviewers who gave me nice reports. Oh, and ya know how last chapter I saw that I hoped to have the plot going by the end of this chapter? Well, more like 1 quarter of the way into Chapter 7. As long as I keep getting reviews and such, I'll update. Hint hint cough cough review. _

The month that had passed since Cameron's death was crazy. House had returned to work after two weeks, and kept Libby in his office. It worked out surprisingly well; someone was in there almost all the time, when they weren't House had a baby monitor poised right next to his beeper, and everyone was under strict rules to wash their hands as often as possible in order to avoid getting Libby sick.

The team was currently working on the case of Maria Serten. Bruised easily, very weak, she should have gone to see a regular doctor before a trip down the stairs led to her nearly bleeding to death. Now, the team called out diagnosis that fit the symptoms as Libby looked on in her little baby seat. It always surprised Chase that a baby could be so…content to observe.

"Differential diagnosis, people!"

Wilson called out. "Leukemia. Explains all the symptoms."

"_Differential diagnosis_. Cancer's boring."

"You don't want to run a test because it's _boring_? This is a new low."

"You just think it's leukemia because you're an oncologist."

"You just think it's something else because you have nothing to do."

Foreman and Chase watched their banter with interest. No matter how long they worked for House, they would never achieve this level of…friendship? Respect? Cameron had this with House, but Cameron was gone. Foreman glanced at the baby. _It's my fault she's gone, I shouldn't have left her, I should have been able to tell something was going to happen, an aneurism is under my specialty, if I had been in there I could have saved her._ Even as Foreman thought this, he knew it was stupid and that he couldn't have done anything. But still, the last time he had seen her alive, he had panicked and left. He would never be able to forgive himself. He looked back at Libby. _I'll never walk out on her if she needs me. Never._

"Foreman?"

Foreman glanced up. House wanted a diagnosis from him now.

"Uhhh, Hemophilia B."

"One problem Einstein. Maria's a woman."

"Hemophilia B can rarely occur in women or ummm…Maria can secretly be a Mario, maybe?"

Chase and Wilson snorted. "Foreman, I think we would have noticed that in ER check-up."

"What? She could be a transvestite."

"The medical file mentions nothing of the kind."

"She has no insurance. It could have been done by an uncertified surgeon."

Chase looked up. "If she has no insurance, then how are we treating her?"

"Her father's paying for it. Ok, Foreman, test for Hemophilia B and Chase, examine Ms. Serten's business end and see if you notice anything peculiar."

"What about the leukemia."

"Fine. Test for that too because Wilson wants to be boring."

The remaining ducklings left but Wilson and House stayed behind. Wilson was still staying with House, seeing as his divorce papers had just come in the mail and Julie had gotten the house and Wilson thought it best to continue staying with his friend. No way could he handle losing his wife, handling a new baby and his job at the same time. Or so he thought.

Wilson looked at House with a mixture of curiosity and respect as he hobbled over to his daughter and picked her up, gently ran his hand over her soft baby hair, a look of peace came across his face and his featured softened. Wilson would have never thought House could find such fulfillment in something so small but he did. Libby was her father's joy.

"You're good at that." House looked up at Wilson.

"At what?"

"Taking care of Libby. You're doing more than a square job. It's a good thing."

House looked down at his daughter. "She's…she's my girl."

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An hour or so passed like that. Chase had noticed some oddities with Ms. Serten and was helping Foreman run the labs. He stared at Cameron's empty chair. It was still in the exact same position as it was in since she last sat in it. No one wanted to move it, to disturb it. It was like their own private tombstone.

Foreman, terrified of the silence that filled this room now, broke the quiet. "Whatdoya think?"

Chase glanced up. "Huh?"

"Mary Serten."

"Oh. I don't know. Her name's Maria. Do you…miss her?"

"No, why would I miss Maria Serten?"

"No, not her. Cameron."

"Oh." Foreman, suddenly uncomfortable, looked down at the tests he was running. Leukemia: negative, Hemophilia B: positive. "I was right. I'll start the treatment." And with that he rushed off, leaving Chase alone in an unbearable silence, a constant reminder of what once was.

Chase called out "you never answered my question" but Foreman was already gone. _Of course he did you stupid, he feels guilty. Why shouldn't he? Why should you? It's not your job to._

But Chase left those thoughts in a dark corner of his mind and continued his crossword, happy to occupy his brain with something he could put down whenever he wanted to.

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A very annoyed Cuddy stumbled into the Oncology Lounge. She knew she would find House here; he hadn't set foot in the Maternity Ward, let alone the Maternity Lounge, since he had taken Libby home. Her eyes darted around and eventually settled on House idly playing yo-yo next to Libby, still in her baby carrier.

"House!"

"Uh-oh. Have I gots some 'splainin to do?"

"You were supposed to be in the clinic two hours ago!"

"Yes, but you see, people are especially stupid today. It is insulting to my intelligence to see them."

Cuddy chose her words very carefully and said them very slowly and pronounced. "House, if you don't get down to the clinic right now I swear I'll…"

"What about Libby? I don't want to pick up something and give it to her."

"You'll wash your hands; I'll bring Libby into my office for the time being."

"Fine. Have it your way, Ricky." He hobbled off.

Cuddy barely resisted the urge to lunge at House and cane him. It wasn't until she was halfway up to her office with Libby that she realized this would be the first time she ever babysat.

Cuddy plopped the baby seat down on her desk.

"Ok, Libs. Libby. Libby-doo-dah. Here's the deal. If you're nice to me, and if you don't cry or scream, then I promise I won't either: Ok?"

Cuddy was disgusted with herself. Making a deal with a two week old baby? What was wrong with her? But still, she found herself reaching out her hand to shake with Libby. To her surprise, Libby grabbed her finger, her fingers not even reaching around the whole thing, and waited for Cuddy to shake.

Cuddy laughed. "Ok, then. I've got some work to do, so you just sit tight ok sweetie?"

Cuddy took the subsequent giggle from Libby as confirmation and proceeded to finish some paperwork.

Things continued like that for at least an hour and a half before Libby started to get fussy. Cuddy panicked as the baby began to cry. _Oh man, what do I do now? Everyone's gonna hear her cry, what a set of lungs she has, a potential benefactor is gonna be here in fifteen minutes, I can't have a crying baby…_

Not knowing what else to do, Cuddy picked up Libby and started to rock her back and forth in her arms. This calmed her down a little but she was still upset. _Ok, maybe she's not just fussy, maybe she needs something. Diaper: Clean (thank goodness.) _Suddenly Cuddy slapped herself on the forehead. _Bottle! Maybe she's hungry. Now I have to get a bottle…and fast…_

So Cuddy made her way down to the Maternity Ward and snuck some formula. Then she washed out the bottle once, twice, three times until she got back to her office. By some miracle, it occurred to her to get a towel to put over her shoulder in case she spit up.

By the time Cuddy got back to her office, she was almost excited to feed Libby. She made herself comfortable in the same office chair she had used for the past six years, crooked Libby into the curve of her elbow, and started to feed her. It worked like a charm. As Libby drank, she gazed up at Cuddy, a silent thank-you.

Cuddy realized that this was the happiest she had ever been since she found out she was the new Dean of Medicine. She suddenly felt incredibly sorry for Cameron, that she was robbed of this ecstasy, this immense joy that came from providing your baby with what it needs to live.

And with that feeling came sorrow for another person, for Libby. Cuddy would never know how it felt to have your time of birth recorded half an hour before your mother's time of death.

It wasn't until after House came up to take Libby home, and Cuddy had proudly said what an excellent child he had, that Cuddy realized that she had already started thinking about Libby as "her baby."

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_Five Months Later…_

House thought it was an incredible thing that Libby was six months old already. Cuddy had thrown together a small non-birthday, non-party for Libby in the Diagnostics Lounge. The only people in attendance were Cuddy, House, Foreman, Chase, and Wilson. Wilson had picked up a small Carvel ice-cream cake that only Foreman, Chase and Wilson had eaten. No one had any music, so Cuddy had just turned on the radio.

While Wilson, Foreman, and Chase were talking, Cuddy approached House about something she knew they had to discuss, even though she hated that fact.

"House?"

House turned around from feeding Libby some cake.

"Oh, do you want to feed her? Here." House handed a surprised Cuddy the small plastic spoon he had been using. Cuddy stared at it for a few seconds, not sure if House was joking or not.

House shifted uncomfortably. "Cuddy?"

"Oh, yeah!" Cuddy decided that House was serious and took a small spoon of chocolate ice-cream and gave it to Libby.

The face Libby made upon tasting anything chocolate for the first time was classical. It rivaled that of Chase's the first time he had to dissect human stool samples. Cuddy burst out laughing. "She hates it! How could she hate chocolate?"

House seemed equally amazed. Cuddy was still laughing but when she remembered what she had come to discuss in the first place, her expression straightened abruptly.

"House?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you know, it's been six months now, and you only have Chase and Foreman on your team, and you've been doing a good job but…"

"You want me to replace Cameron." House looked down at the floor uncomfortably.

"House, no one can ever replace Cameron. But your team needs someone new, you can't continue with just two people, Foreman and Chase are overworked and this isn't the kind of job where you hope to get lucky with your diagnosis. People's lives are on the line and…

"And by people's lives I guess you mean your butt."

"House! It's not like that and you _know_ it's not like that."

They both stood awkwardly, waiting for the other to say something. Finally, House broke the silence.

"Fine. I'll find someone else."

"Good. I've already sifted through a ton of applications and set up appointments with the most promising ones to come tomorrow for an interview. So…be good. I have to go now. Bye."

And Cuddy left the room very fast, because she _did not_ want to deal with House when he digested the information that she had practically already hired someone.

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_Applicant One…Dr. Mark Fletcher_

Wilson was sitting in on the interviews in accordance of strict orders from House to "not leave me with a bunch of idiot duckling hopefuls." What House didn't know was that Wilson was also under strict orders from Cuddy to "not leave that idiot House with a bunch of idiot hopefuls." House had once again left Libby with Cuddy, a habit of theirs that they both secretly enjoyed. Cuddy would never tell anyone but she dreaded when Libby would be 7 ½ months old, which was when House planned on putting her in the PPTH day-care center/

A confidant looking doctor strode in to the office. He was tall, with brown hair and brown eyes, about 37 years old, very ordinary looking.

"Dr. House, let me introduce myself. My name is Dr. Mark Fletcher. I specialize in genetics." Fletcher gestured towards Wilson. "I assume this is your boyfriend, Dr…?"

"NEXT!"

House looked at Wilson for a minute after Fletcher left before erupting in laughter, but Wilson's face was bright red.

"And I thought I would be the one without any patience for the ducklings."

_Applicant Two…Dr. Anita Brenner_

A beautiful woman with blonde hair walked coyly into the office. Wilson like her immediately, but House, being House, had his reservations. Brenner flipped her hair and she gave a suggestive wave to Wilson. Wilson started.

"So, ummm, Dr. Brenner, hi. What's your sexuality?"

House and Brenner looked at Wilson.

"Specialty! I mean specialty. Yeah."

Brenner giggled. "Whatever you want it to be, _Dr._"

"NEXT!"

Brenner cat-walked out and House looked at Wilson. "What? What? Oh, come on, House. I tripped over the words. They sound alike.

"Yeah, ok. Sure, Wilson. Just keep telling that to yourself."

_Applicant Three…Dr. Carl Harrison_

This doctor was tall with smart, graying hair, sharp gray eyes, and looked about 40. His easy confidence made Wilson automatically like him, and he could tell House saw something in him too. For the first time Wilson could remember, House began the questioning.

"So, Dr…"

"Harrison."

"Dr. Harrison. Ok, what's your specialty?"

"Nuclear Medicine. It's a very interesting field."

"I see. Where did you work before hand?"

"Seabourne Hospital in Massachusetts."

"Do you watch "The Three Stooges?"

"Sometimes, but I don't see how…"

"Ok. You're hired. Tomorrow morning. 7:30. Here. Bye."

Harrison stood up and left. Wilson rolled his eyes at House.

"What? I wanted to see if he could think on his feet, Tweedle-Dumb."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Nuclear Medicine will make a good addition."

"Whatever you say."

House stood up and stretched. "Ok, I have to go pick up Libby, then home. See you there? Or do you have a date with Wife Number Four?"

"Who's that?"

"_Wilson and Brenner sittin' in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love…then comes marriage…then comes the lawyer with the pre-numps package!_"

House laughed to himself as Wilson walked angrily off. When he went into Cuddy' office, she was in meeting with some doctor so he just made eye-contact with her to show that he had Libby and she hadn't been kidnapped.

House balanced Libby on his hip as he got all of her stuff together (diaper bag and her teddy-bear which was the only toy she played with.) "How's my girl?" Libby giggled and made her best attempt yet to hug him. House smiled to himself. _My girl._

_TBC_

_Author's Note: Wow! Two huge chapters in two days! Ohhhhh yeah! Ok, I did my job now please review! Oh, and if anyone saw any HoYay between Wilson and House in this chapter, it was totally unintentional. They are not going to get together in this story. However…I am in the very early stages of setting up for another couple. Oh, by the way, the plot will definitely be in full swing by the middle of Chapter Seven! It was set up here, but I made no hints as to what it is. Once again, review please!_


	7. Five Percent Life

_Disclaimer: Don't own nothing except Harrison and the infinitely adorable Libby. But not House. _

_Author's Note: New chapter woohoo! I think I am quite good at updating quickly. So please review…and to those that did:_

**paige fan**…_I guess I didn't make it clear enough that House is in denial. He is. And in this chapter, all those feelings that he didn't want to deal will come tumbling down in the…what is it now? Third major tragedy? Poor House…but they have all happened so the plot could take place. And Chapter Six wasn't so much filler as transition and I laid down a **lot** of groundwork._

**Nikelodean**…_I'm so glad you enjoyed the story! _

_BTW…The first part is fluffy! And groundworky! Boy, do I love multi-tasking! _

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"_Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday dear Libby…Happy Birthday to you!"_

House, Cuddy, Foreman, Chase, Harrison, and quite a few other doctors and nurses as well as many children from the PPTH Day Care all cheered as Libby attempted to blow out the single candle that honored the passing of her first birthday. Wilson was absent as he was away on vacation the week of Libby's birthday. He was actually supposed to be home yesterday but had gotten "stormed in" (but House interpreted it as "I met someone").

House helped Libby (actually, he was more eager to see what she got than she was) unwrap her presents. "Let's see, this one is from Chase." House feigned shock. "A puzzle! For children three and up! How appropriate!" Chase turned red. "Libby's a smart girl…and it looked easy."

It was true that Libby was pretty advanced for her age. She had mastered the fine art of crawling at six and a half months, managed to stand with the help of a table or some other type of support at seven months, and had taught herself how to do a sweet toddle at ten months. In addition to that, Libby could do child puzzles that were marked for ages "2+." Obviously, House and the Diagnostics Team (who considered their "combined powers and influences" equal to a parental unit and a half) had a lot to be proud of.

Suddenly, Wilson burst into the room. Everyone was too distracted by his grand entrance, new tan, and souvenirs to notice that Libby was playing with the puzzle. She tumbled all the pieces and first turned them all right side up. Then, slowly but surely, she pieced them together on the puzzle board. Not even seven minutes later, Cuddy looked back at Libby just in time to see Libby fit in the final section.

For the first time in her memory, Cuddy squealed. "Libby!" Everyone turned their attention to the one year old. Chase stuttered. "She did a puzzle…that's supposed to be challenging for a three year old…in less than ten minutes…all by herself? That's…incredible!" He knelt down and gave Libby's shoulders a squeeze.

The pride Cuddy felt for Libby rivaled that of any parent's for their child. More than once Cuddy considered giving House a few extra canes because he would certainly need them to beat off the boys in a few years. Libby was truly angelic looking…she had her father's crystal blue eyes, her mother's peaches and cream complexion, and strawberry-blonde hair that was beginning to curl in what Cuddy was sure would be gorgeous locks of banana curls.

Half an hour later, the "party" was over and House was pulling out of the parking lot when suddenly he was practically thrown out of his by a sudden crash. Out of instinct, he first checked that Libby was safely in her car-seat (she was) then turned to see whose car crashed into his. It would soon meet its demise.

"_Cuddy!_"

Cuddy looked shocked at the mess House's car was and the non-mess her car was.

"House I am so sorry completely my fault I will pay for it no problem no hassle no nothing…" Cuddy suddenly remembered who traveled with House. "Waitaminute…is Libby ok?"

"My baby's really hurt."

Cuddy seemed to fold into herself as tears sprung into her eyes. "I…Ohmygosh House, I…I would never intentionally hurt Libby…you know I love her like she's my own."

"No, not Libby. Rosie. She looks like she's in terrible shape, don't you think?"

Cuddy gaped angrily at House.

"You're going to have to get over the usual rage as you are now mine and Libby's ride home."

"I'll take Libby to your apartment, no way am I letting you in my car after that…_horrible _joke."

"Nuh-uh. I'm coming. If my only daughter is getting in the car with a woman driver, I'm coming with her."

"_House!_"

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_Two and a half years later (big time leap…I know…but I've got to get that plot a movin' and a groovin'!)_

House was thoroughly disappointed in his medical abilities. For the past month, Libby had a cough that she simply could not kick. At first House thought it was allergies, so he gave her a series of three anti-histamines until he attempted to treat with cold and flu medicines. Still, no luck. Before he transferred her to strong cough medicines (he had already tried all the weaker ones) he decided he might as well have Wilson give her quick check-up.

Which was how he ended up fidgeting in the cheap seat of the Head Oncologist's office as Wilson listened to Libby breathe as she chatted happily to him about how pointless this test was. This process was made especially cute by the fact that Libby had a hard time pronouncing her "L's" and "R's", which resulted in "Wibby", "Doctoua Wiwlson", "Doctoua Foawman," and the like.

"I promise (pwamise) Uncle Jimmy, or I guess here its Dr. Wilson, I really don't need this. I mean…"

"Breathe."

She took in a deep breath and continued talking. "I mean, I _know_ how to breathe. I've been doing it on my own since the tender age of five seconds."

Wilson laughed. She was just as funny as her father, but in a nice way. She was also just as smart, but of course not educated.

"Breathe."

"Hey, Dr Wilson?"

"Breathe. Yeah?"

Libby tried to take a deep breath but instead coughed this horrible, hacking, dry cough. Wilson looked up at House in concern as Libby coughed for a few minutes.

"You ok there?"

"Yeah Dad, I'm fine."

"Breathe. What were you going to say, Libby?"

"Oh. I was going to ask if I have smaller lungs than my friends from the Day Care Center just because I'm the smallest one there."

Wilson looked up at Libby. She really was tiny, more so than anyone else of her age group but not so much that anyone should be worried. Even so, looking at her was an optical indulgence. Just as Cuddy predicted, she had long, strawberry-blonde banana curls that hung around her face in innocent but budding beauty. Wilson dreaded the days when boys would be looking at that sweet face. Boys that were younger versions of Wilson.

"Dr. Wilson?"

Wilson snapped back to reality. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. Yes, you do have smaller lungs, but they're the same size compared to their body as your friends lungs are compared to theirs. It's kind of hard to understand. Breathe."

"No, I think I get it. Like, my lungs are just the right size for my body. And their lungs are just the right size for their bodies. Is it like that?"

Wilson grinned. She really was a bright kid. "Yeah, exactly like that. Ok, sweetie, I'm going to run some blood tests and you're going to get an X-Ray. You've never gotten one of those before, have you? Roll up your sleeve, you talk while I'll take the blood."

"No, I haven't." She bit her lip and winced slightly as Wilson gave her the somewhat painful blood test. He needed quite a bit.

House also winced, but that was at the memory of seeing the woman he loved bite her lip while she was in extreme pain. _She should have screamed. _

But House shook his head and wiped those thoughts from his mind. _If I don't think them, I won't have to deal with them. I can deal with this. X-Ray. That's not good._

"Ahhh, what's she need an X-Ray for?" _Stupid. I know exactly why she needs an X-Ray. _

Wilson beckoned a nurse with a wheelchair to bring Libby down to Radiology. "Oh, nothing to worry about. I just want to make sure there's nothing there, that's all." Inwardly, Wilson was disgusted with himself. _Liar. _

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_Six hours later…_

House glanced at Libby, who was dozing off in a chair in the Oncology Lab. He looked back at Wilson, who was grimly analyzing the X-Rays. A tumor. On her right lung. His baby.

Wilson looked up. "House. The tests are back. It's…it's not good."

"Oh." House braced himself.

"Well, you have to know that…" House interrupted him.

"Wilson. I'm not some random parent. Your presentation isn't going to change the facts. Just tell me."

"It's extensive small-cell lung cancer. She might have gotten it from…maybe from Allie. Cameron." Wilson blurted the news out. _There had to have been a better way to tell him than that._

The words and the facts echoed in House's ears. _Extensive small-cell lung cancer. The survival rate's less than 5._

_My daughter probably won't see her tenth birthday. _

Suddenly, the room seemed too small for House. He abruptly stood up, left the lab and slammed the door, waking up Libby. She looked from her father's retreating form to Wilson. She looked Wilson in the eye, those crazy blue eyes, but talked gently. "What's going on?"

Wilson could give House this much, the duty of telling his daughter she was dying no longer lied with House. Wilson sighed and began the task of telling a three and a half year old girl she was dying.

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Two hours and on speeding ticket later House found himself walking through the graveyard, aided by a flashlight. It was midnight.

It was so, so, dark.

Finally, House found the grave he was looking for. _Here lies Allison Cameron._

Without giving a thought to what he was about to do and giving it all the thoughts in the world, House kicked the tombstone with his good leg. He stared at it for a moment, clicked the flashlight off, and suddenly dropped to his knees, his body convulsed by inhuman sobs, full of anger and sorrow.

He was eclipsed by darkness.

_Author's Note: Wow! A lot got done just there! Ok, that's the plot for you. I plan on taking things a lot slower now, without all these major time jumps. Oh yeah, and I'm changing the title to "Better to Have Loved and Lost…" You know what to do…REVIEW! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase review!_


	8. The Storm

_Disclaimer: Really, the amount of things I own is pathetic. Libby and Harrison…that's it. House isn't mine._

_Author's Note: I love reviewers! _

Libby watched with unusual interest for a child of three and a half years as Wilson prepared her arm to be injected with chemo-therapy. "Ok, sweetie, I'm going to give you the shot now. Do you want me to tell you again what's going to happen?"

"Nope, I'm fine. I remember." She smiled and looked outside the door at another child patient on the oncology floor. She was bald.

"How long is it until I'm bald?"

"Soon."

Libby bit her lip ever so slightly as Wilson injected the chemo-IV into her arm. For all it represented, it was so anti-climatic that Libby didn't even watch. Wilson and Cuddy had both pledged to each other to stay with House and Libby, no matter what came their way. As their storm began, they looked nervously at each other, then back towards House.

House appeared as though he didn't know what to do. First, he paced. Then, he twiddled his thumbs. Finally, he just took a seat next to Libby and sat in silence, waiting for her to need him.

The wait was almost over.

An hour or so went by like this. Although Libby looked considerably paler, she had yet to be sick. She had gagged a bit, but nothing came out. House had carefully planned out that morning's breakfast, which consisted only of soft, smooth foods. What went down easy would come up easy.

Suddenly, something in House's pocket vibrated. House fished around for what it was…his beeper. _Patient coding three times in 15 minutes…Get up here now …Foreman. _House looked helplessly at Wilson. (Cuddy had left after half an hour when she realized she had a meeting with the board.) Wilson nodded a couple times at House. "I'll stay with her. She hasn't even been sick yet. I'll be here. I'll page you if anything happens." House looked uneasy. "House, it's me. Don't worry."

"Yeah, Dad. Don't worry, I'll be fine. Uncle Jimmy's here!"

House's heart melted at his daughter's naivety, so like her mother's. "House. You should go."

House sighed, kissed Libby on the top of her head, and left. "Page me if…well, you can decide pretty well when to page me."

Libby watched her father limp off until he was out of sight. Then she looked back at Wilson, suddenly panicked. Subsequently, she keeled over and threw up all over the floor.

Wilson was quick to react. He held her hair back and made sympathetic noises as Libby emptied out what looked like everything she had ever eaten, ever. Finally, after at least five minutes, it seemed as though Libby was done. She leaned back in her chair before letting out an almost inaudible "oh no" and did a very good repeat of the last ten minutes of her life.

After half an hour of this, House still wasn't back and Wilson decided to hook Libby up to another IV, one that would keep her from getting dehydrated. This wouldn't stop Libby from being as violently sick as she was, just to keep some aspect of her health in the doctor's control.

Cuddy had received the non-urgent page from Wilson just as her meeting was ending. She cut it short and rushed up three flights of stairs to see Libby for herself. But when she got to the room, she stopped short at the door and let her eyes soak up the scene to better prepare herself for what lay inside.

Suddenly, Libby was violently ill in a hospital bin. Cuddy rushed in to hold her long, beautiful hair back and she and Wilson exchanged worried glances. The grim look on Wilson's face told Cuddy that this was a pattern. Libby murmured a quiet thanks and shut her eyes, exhausted.

Wilson gave Libby a weak smile. "You don't have to keep saying thank you. Actually, don't say thank you. It's my job. And you're my girl; I would do it for you anyway."

Libby returned with an even weaker smile while Wilson and Cuddy talked to each other in hushed voices.

"Your meeting ended already?"

"I cut the long ending short. This was more important. Did you page House yet?"

"Yeah, just before I paged you. He paged back asking how big an emergency was it, and I said there wasn't one, and he said ten minutes. So he should be getting here…"

Wilson was interrupted by the arrival of House. He looked as though he had seen better days. Wilson guessed the patient had done some more coding. House quickly made his way over to Libby and stroked her hair back off her forehead in such a touching way that Wilson hadn't even guessed House was capable of that.

"Hey baby, how you been doing?"

Libby smiled softly. "I'm ok."

Wilson resisted the urge to snort, but House caught it. He looked his friend in the eye, still brushing back Libby's angelic locks. He was very good at emotional multi-tasking.

Not.

"She…she threw up. A lot."

Libby said in a choked voice she wasn't done yet and vomited again. House looked terrified. This was new to him, yet so old. Knowing exactly what was wrong with the patient and being able to do nothing about it. House looked up at Wilson.

"Can't you give her something?"

"I don't want to do it the first day of the first round. I need to see how she reacts."

"_Can't you see how she's reacting!"_ House and Wilson both looked very surprised at this outburst. Cuddy's face was decorated in clashing anger and sympathy, while Libby just looked disturbed. She let out a quiet "I'm sorry."

"Libby, it's not your fault. I'm so sorry." House felt horrible. Here he was, being a jackass, while his three and a half year old daughter took the first brave steps of a battle that probably wouldn't end until the day she died.

"Yeah. Me too. I'm sorry Libs. Your dad and I are just…very sad. We don't want anything to happen to you."

Libby looked from one man to the other and displayed exceptional perceptiveness for someone her age by deciding to make a smooth transition to another topic.

"When can I go home?"

Wilson, happy to have something to do, checked the tell-tale, black dressed IV bag. "Actually, right now. Your done for today."

"Today?"

"Well, I told you, you have to keep doing this until you get better."

Libby examined the bag. "Well, I'm not a doctor or anything, and you all are, but all this did was make me sick. I felt fine yesterday. Except for that cough. But that's it. And it wasn't even that bad."

Wilson laughed. "Sorry Libs. I'll see you tomorrow, ok kiddo?"

"Ok. Bye. And thanks." Libby walked over and gave Wilson, then Cuddy a hug. Cuddy looked as though she was about to cry. "See ya tomorrow." She looked back at House, and gave him a sad smile. "You've got a good kid there."

"And apparently, you've got an even better doctor. I mean, having people say thank-you after finding out they're terminal is one thing, but giving a hug after an intense day of chemo? _This steenker's a keeper!"_

"You know the deal for infections…if you should bring her in, if not, blah blah blah…"

"No, Wilson. I'm a world-renowned diagnostician but gosh darn it, I never can tell what infections should put kids in the hospital!"

Wilson and Cuddy exchanged glances. They saw right through his transparent act of functioning just fine. It was going to be one long haul.

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At exactly 1:06 AM, House woke up in his bed to the crash of something. Even though it was down the hallway, he could tell it came from his daughter's room. Without stopping to take a Vicoden or even his cane, House painfully ran to where Libby slept. He flipped on the light to see that his daughter had the shakes so violently that she had fallen out of bed, banged into the nightstand, and knocked over the lamp which, thank goodness, had narrowly missed crashing onto Libby. _Infection._

Even as House knelt down to gather his daughter in his arms and blanket and hurriedly called an ambulance, the doctor part of him thought of a list of infections that Libby could possibly have. But when he looked down at the shaking girl in his arms, the doctor part all went away and the father part took over.

House was a top diagnostician who was best friends with a top oncologist, but he was still shocked at how quickly the chemo had worn down Libby's immune system. He was even more shocked at how quickly it had worn down his own personal immune system.

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Foreman had pulled the short straw and worked the night shift that evening. He greeted House with a stretcher and a couple doctors in the ER. It was easy to deduce what Libby had, and just as easy to treat it, but House was still felt thrown in the loop. Or was it out of the loop? He could never remember the difference.

_Is this the first day of the rest of my life? Or the last? _House looked at the little girl who looked even smaller than normal that lay in the hospital bed. House put his head in his head and sighed. He could never tell the difference.

_Author's Note…Ok, the plot's in full swing, you know what to do, I'm updating like crazy, time to review! Haha, I made a rhyme and now it's TIME to review! Again. Wow, I need a life. Ok, review please folks! And do I really need to say it…TBC_


	9. Strawberry Blonde Tears

_Disclaimer…All I own here are Libby and Harrison. Libby is awesome to own, but Harrison…meh, he's ok. But no House. _

_Author's Note…Ok, this is the second chapter I have worked on today and it is for this reason:_

**COffeAddict86**... _Thank you soooooooo much for that insane review! I was so happy, I was grinning from ear to ear. Seriously, wow! That really made my day. Thank you, thank you, thank you!_

**prinnie**…_Thank you so much! I'm so glad you were nearly crying…well, you know what I mean! Thank you!_

_House smiled and opened his arms wide as Cameron flew into them. She kissed him ever-so gently on his cheek and smiled. That smile was…angelic. He was so happy. She whispered something in his ear, but it was so quiet, he couldn't hear. He kept asking her to speak up but he suddenly didn't have a voice. Finally, she spoke loud enough so that he could hear her. "You're doing a great job." House blinked. "A great job on what? Allison? Allison? Please?" House was crying, he had to know so badly. He needed to know, he didn't know what would happen if he didn't, just that it wouldn't be good. But it was too late; Cameron kissed him so tenderly, so softly on his lips that he raised his hand to his mouth to make sure it had really happened. But even as he did so, he could see her slipping away. House was sobbing now; he knew he was about to lose her. The color in her cheeks was fading; her eyes were getting hollow…but wait! The color slowly returned but…it wasn't Allison. It was another girl, even more beautiful hen Allison…it was Libby. A strange euphoria suddenly gripped House, he didn't know if he would ever get out of its grasp. But then, Libby started to fade too. House's arms were flailing wildly, trying to grab onto her, and everything was shaking and dark and suddenly…_

"Dad! Dad! Dad, wake up!"

House snapped up and opened his eyes wide and found his little daughter out of her hospital bed, one small hand holding on to his arms. Her crystal blue eyes shone with fear, but she spoke sensitively.

"Dad, are you ok?"

House gave his head a wag, to clear away his thoughts. "Yeah baby, I'm fine. I'm fine."

"You had a nightmare."

"No I didn't. Really sweetie, I'm fine."

"No, no you're not." Libby put herself on House's lap and hugged him. She spoke softly. "Everyone has dreams. Everyone has nightmares too. It's ok."

Even as House heard these words, he couldn't believe they were coming from the mouth of a girl younger than four years old. She was amazing. She was perfect. She was his. She smiled up at him.

"You know what I'm going to do for you?"

House smiled. He loved her games that she made up. "What are you going to do for me Libby?"

"I'm going to do for you what you do for me when I have a bad dream."

House was only partly-playing along now. He cocked his head. "What's that?"

"You can sleep in my bed, here, at the hospital. I'm thirsty, so I'll get us some nice milk. And Nurse Cathy, she's so nice Dad, she said that whenever she's working the night shift and I need something, I can always go to her. I've been here for two weeks and I haven't done that yet, but I will now. So, get comfortable. Do you want to watch a movie?"

House gaped at her. Libby was perhaps the sweetest and most generous kid around, maybe even person around. "No, no, no, no, no! I'm not going to sleep in your hospital bed!"

Libby giggled. "I wouldn't even _hear_ of you sleeping anywhere else! Besides, you've been sleeping in that chair for the last two weeks. It's hurting your leg. And then you'll be on one floor, and I'll be on the other, we won't be able to visit each other, and Aunt Lisa would go _crazy_ with _two_ Houses in the hospital. _Oh, the havoc we would wreak._" House smiled; Libby was quoting him.

And with that, Libby got up and walked off into the hallway in search of a movie, some warm milk, and some cookies. House lay down and stared at the ceiling. _No wonder Allison was an atheist. What kind of god would make a girl like Libby suffer?_

Ten minutes later, Libby came back with a whole cart full of nighttime goodies that the nurses kept in the Oncology Lounge. House looked from the cart to his daughter in awe. "How did you get this?"

"Nurse Cathy, _duh!_"

"All of this?"

"Yeah, but I left some stuff for Uncle Jimmy too." She hopped up onto the bed with House and sat Indian Style, offered him a cookie (which he accepted) then took a small one for herself and chatted happily.

"Oh, Dad, did I tell you that I got a visit from Uncle Jimmy's new girlfriend yesterday?"

House was intrigued. _He _hadn't even met Wilson's new girlfriend.

"Really?"

"Yes. Her name is Samantha, and she is a very nice lady. But she seemed kind of…nervous around me."

"I bet it's because she knew you were so important to Uncle Jimmy."

"Nope. I'm pretty sure it was because she gets scared by sick people."

House was definitely interested. "Then what is she doing dating an oncologist?"

"I don't know. I wanted to ask her, but I didn't. I didn't want to be rude, like _some_ people I know whose names I don't remember."

House let out a laugh. When had his daughter gotten so…much like him?

"Haha Dad, but you know that I'm just joking and that I love you."

Then again, she was so much like her mother, too.

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Wilson walked into to Libby's hospital room the next morning to find Libby gone and House asleep in her bed. Wilson smiled; Cuddy and Wilson had been trying for two weeks to get House to sleep in his own bed at home, but this was a nice compromise. Except for Libby.

House rolled over but remained asleep. For a fleeting moment, Wilson considered fixing the blanket, but decided against it. _He looks so peaceful and…nice when he's sleeping. _

"Uncle Jimmy?" A soft voice shook Wilson out of his thoughts. He turned around and kneeled down so he was eye-to-eye with the little girl at the threshold.

"Hey, Libby." He gestured towards House. "Howdja sleep?"

Libby giggled. "Fine."

"Did you eat breakfast yet?"

"No, I'm not hungry."

Wilson sighed. "Libs, you got to eat to keep your strength up so you don't get another infection like last time."

Libby looked faintly annoyed and a little pale. "I'm not hungry. Can I just have something small?"

"Deal. But you got to have a big lunch than, ok?"

Libby grinned. "Uncle Jimmy, you can't do that! You can't say _deal_ then add something to it! That's cheating!"

"I'm a doctor. I've got privileges. You should have this conversation with your dad though. He knows a lot about cheating."

"Yeah, yeah." Suddenly, Libby went pale again.

"Libby? You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm…I'm fine. Just got a little…a little…" But Libby didn't get to finish; her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she fainted.

Wilson began shouting out directions to the surrounding nurses and almost immediately had Libby hooked up to an IV. He looked up for a second, and found House was on his knees, right next to them. _When did he wake up? _

Within a few minutes, Libby was awake and stabilized, but it still went down as one of the scariest moments in House's life. The list was getting longer and longer.

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After an hour, the team was able to deduce that Libby simply needed stronger antibiotics and started her on them immediately. After seven hours of constant watch, Libby finally convinced House and Wilson to leave. Two hours after this, Libby suddenly realized something was happening to her. She fought the urge to scream and instead left the room, IV in tow, to find Cuddy.

15 minutes later Libby wound up in Cuddy's office, where she was doing paperwork. Libby spoke in a very soft voice. "Dr. Cuddy?"

Cuddy's head snapped up and she gasped. "Oh my gosh Libby, you scared me! What's up?"

Tears began to roll down Libby's face. "I…I need you to…I need you to help me. Please."

Cuddy smiled. "Of course, sweetie, anything. What do you need me to do."

Libby walked over to her and handed her a brush. "I need you to brush my hair."

The boa that had been constricting Cuddy's heart since Libby had been diagnosed squeezed twice as hard. She understood what was going on and gingerly turned the brush in her hands. _Stay strong Lisa, this is so much harder for her than it is for you._

She began to brush, first on the bottom, and moving her way up. Her locks were so soft. And just as slowly as she brushed, the hair fell off Libby's head and onto the ground in a big pile of strawberry-blonde curls and tears.

_Author's Note…Awww that was sad. Ok, please please please review! Thank you! _


	10. Rational Fear

_Disclaimer…Make love, not lawsuits! Haha…I don't own anything Houseish. Except for Libby and Harrison, and Samantha. Libby's good to have on my side, but who cares about Harrison? And Samantha? Puh-lease!_

_Author's Note…TWENTY-ONE REVIEWS! Holy cow! I love my reviewers! You guys made my day. Seriously…wow. Awesomeness. BTW…I got a couple reviews saying that Libby wasn't in total character for a three year old…this is totally my fault. I didn't make it clear enough that most of the time she is quoting House. But she is a bright kid. By the way, I love my reviewers. _

It had been three months since Libby was diagnosed. She had gotten many infections, up until the point Wilson advised House to admit Libby into a more-permanent room after about a month and a half.

House didn't know which part of that arrangement he hated more; that Libby was so sick, she couldn't live at home or that he was living alone. The latter made him feel selfish, the former he hated in itself.

He knew it was for the best, Libby needed to be monitored, she was losing weight, she needed a nutrient IV, there were a million reasons he thought of the night she got moved to a more lasting room. But the only one on his mind was that he couldn't give her what she needed at home.

He wasn't enough.

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One rainy afternoon, House strolled into Libby's room at an unusual time (everyone that regularly visited her was working now) to find it empty and the bed tightly made. Irrational fear gripped his heart and House race-hobbled down the hallway, yelling out for Wilson or a nurse, anyone.

_No fear is irrational when your kid has cancer._

House limped past room after sorrowful room, and allowed himself a peak in each one. With every child were two parents, maybe some grandparents, scattered aunts and uncles, unruly nieces and nephews.

Add that to the list of things House couldn't give Libby. A (biological) family.

But the scene in one room caught his eye. Two girls, little girls Libby's age, one bald, were sitting on a bed, chatting and giggling with each other. One of them looked at the door and saw House standing there.

"Hey, Dad! Dad, this is my friend, Sari. Sari, this is my dad. Hey, Dad, Sari has cancer too, but she has radio-nation and I have chemo."

The Little-Girl-Whose-Name-Was-Sari looked up and smiled shyly at House. House basically ignored her and turned his attention back to Libby.

"Libby, you scared me. You can't just leave your room. You have to tell someone."

"Dad, I go everyday."

"Why?"

"I like Sari."

"Well, you…it's not fair to just leave."

_Oh, very nice. Making her feel guilty for facing the possibility of dying. And probably making her feel guilty for her mother. Good job. Father-Of-The-Year award goes to…Greg House, for making his daughter feel guilty about her mother's death and her own likely death._

_The hell? When did I start thinking so freely about Libby dying? When did I start accepting it as "likely."_

_"Likely" could never work._

"Dad? Dad!"

House snapped out of it and looked down to see Libby standing next to him, lightly tugging on his pant leg.

"Yeah?"

"Come on, you said you wanted me to go. Bye, Sari!"

"Bye!"

House shut the door and stood outside The-Girl-Whose-Name-Was-Sari's room for a minute with Libby. He leaned up against it and sighed. Libby's expression changed from slightly annoyed to slightly worried.

"Dad?"

"Libs, I'll meet you back in your room in ten minutes ok? I just gotta talk to Uncle Jimmy."

Libby ran ahead and House shifted his position against the door. The People-Who-Seemed-To-Be-Sari's-Parents suddenly tapped on House's shoulder.

"What?"

"Why are you standing outside my daughter's room?"

"Oh, it's a funny story. You see, I was just randomly walking around; I'm homeless just so ya know, and I came across this here hospital! So I, being homeless and stupid, walked in. I strolled around here for a bit, as I needed an empty room. Then some doctors came in to this room we're standing outside of, and came out with a gurney with some kind of lump under a white sheet. I wasn't sure what it was, but some nice nurse said that she would have the room sterilized for me in a few minutes. I was glad I gots me a room, because now I don't have to knife anyone tonight!"

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A very annoyed and leg-achy House found Wilson in the Oncology Lab, instensly studying some X-Rays.

"Hey."

Wilson jumped back as if he had been shocked, but when he saw his friend's face, he went resignedly back to his X-Rays.

"I said 'hey.'"

"I heard" Wilson said in a very off-handed way.

"I've been practicing. Just for you."

"I'm honored."

"I've also been practicing this nifty little trick with my cane, also just for you. And I've done some experimenting with the clipboard. Brace yourself for some whacky-whacky tonight!"

Wilson looked up, disgusted. "Ew."

"Now that I've got your attention, what do you know about this girl, Sharry? Shorrie? Sandy? Saminna? What are her chances of surviving?"

"Sari, you idiot. Doctor/patient confidentially, sorry, not telling anything. I know it's a pretty new concept to you, but you'll live."

"Why are you in such a bad mood? Wait…is it that time of the month again?"

"It's Libby."

"Libby's getting a time of the month already? _They grow up so fast._"

"No, it's Libby's X-Rays."

Inwardly, House panicked. And when he panicked, he did only one thing. Sarcasm.

"Libby's X-Rays are getting a time of the month? Wow."

If Wilson wasn't best friends with House and didn't know, or at least thought he knew him inside-out, Wilson would have physically beat House up.

Instead, the X-Rays legally binded him to killing him emotionally.

"You know, there's a kind of a Murphy's Law to Oncology."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. In normal cases if the chemo makes you really sick, that's a good sign. It means your body is reacting strongly to the chemo. But if you don't get sick, no vomiting, no infections, or very little of that, then it usually means your body is resistant to the chemo."

House caught the right word. "Normal?"

Wilson sighed and showed House the X-Rays. "House, she's not responding to the treatment."

The knot that had been permanently residing in House's stomach for the past three months doubled in its strength.

"Then what do we do?"

"We can try radiation and combine it with the chemo. That'll probably do something. Then, after a while with that, we can do surgery."

"Ok."

Wilson practically did a double-take. When had House ever been so accepting?

"Ok?"

"Yeah. Ok. I'll go tell Libby now."

House rushed out, the lab had gotten too small for him. He sighed as he remembered that he had to go to an even smaller room. He walked fast, yet so slow. Cuddy was coming at him from the other direction, on her way to answer a "bad news" page from Wilson. The two nearly crashed into each other. Cuddy gasped and muttered an apology but House just kept on walking.

Cuddy hurried down to the lab and saw Wilson grimly staring at the X-Ray board.

"What's up?"

Wilson looked sadly at her. "It's Libby. She's not responding to the treatment."

Cuddy furiously wiped her eyes and her voice quivered. "Is…what's going to happen?"

Wilson looked her in the eye, then back to the board, then at the picture taken at Libby's second birthday party. He traced the outline of her small face with his finger, and smiled fondly at the girl no one had ever truly gotten the chance to know. Then he inevitably looked back at Cuddy.

"She's not terminal, but…but she's going to die."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few hours later, Wilson found House stalking around the hospital courtyard. He stepped gingerly toward him and everything that left his mouth was thought over with the utmost carefulness.

"Hey."

House glanced up sullenly. "Oh. Hey."

"What's up?"

House cocked up his eyebrow. Wilson's attempt at normalcy failed miserably.

"Did you tell her yet?"

"Nope."

"Well, when are you?"

"Thirteen days."

"_Thirteen days?_ What's wrong with you?"

"We have to wait."

"_Why!_"

"Her birthday's next Friday. She'll be four. If she finds out about that we might do something other than chemo, she'll want to start it immediately."

And suddenly Wilson understood. The radiation would make Libby sick. House didn't want Libby to be sick on this particular birthday.

And that was because Libby's test results had further proven that this would probably be Libby's last birthday. Even with treatment.

Wilson's heart broke for his friend. "Ok. We'll wait."

"How long do you think we have?"

Wilson was shocked by the bluntness of House's question. But then again, he was asking how much longer his daughter, not yet four, had to live. There was really no other way to ask it.

"We can deter till she's five, maybe."

Now it was House's turn to look shocked. "I meant how long we had until we were on the 'one day makes all the difference' schedule, you idiot!"

House walked off angrily as Wilson put his head in his hands. _He's right, you are an idiot. Why do you always have to assume the worst? Seriously…_

"Hey, Jimmy."

Wilson looked up. It was Samantha. _Good. I could use a nice rendezvous in the custodial closet. G/d, what am I thinking? This isn't me!_

Wilson got up and hugged her. "Hey, baby. What are you doing here?"

"I just thought you might want some lunch." Samantha held out a brown paper bag.

Wilson smiled at her. "You want to come up to my office?"

Samantha grinned coyly at him. "I sure do."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Twenty minutes later, Samantha stormed out of the janitorial closet. She was much too well-bred to scream out some nasty comment in front of everyone, but decided that her now ex-boyfriend could really benefit from a good kick in the nobles.

While this little scene occurred, House was rounding the corner on the Oncology Floor. House missed the little scene between the two lovebirds but he did see Wilson hopping around in a little circle, cupping his crouch.

"Ladies and gentleman, Dr. James Wilson does the Potty Dance. Hit it, Jimmy!" House did a mock dance number which involved much twirling of the cane until a still-groaning Wilson called out to House to "shut the !# up."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Thursday, the day before Libby' makeshift birthday party in her hospital room…_

"Dad, do you know where Sari is?"

House and Cuddy looked up. Cuddy was doing the crossword puzzle and House was reading a case file. "Nope, sorry. Uhhh, Cuddy, do you mind staying in her for a few seconds while I, errrr, run some tests?"

Both Cuddy and Libby looked surprised at House's sudden politeness and uncomfortable demeanor. But Cuddy knew when to take a hint.

"Yeah, sure. No problem." If Libby noticed anything odd about the two adults behavior, she said nothing. _I can't believe she bought that. Has she ever met House?_

_I can't believe she bought that. Has she ever met me?_

House chose not to read any further into this than he should (though his mind was already chanting "brain tumor! Brain tumor!") and went off to find Wilson.

After ten minutes of painful stalking, he did.

"Hey."

Wilson jumped about a mile in the air. "What the…oh. Hey, House."

"You seem almost disappointed that I'm not here to hold a gun to your head."

"Har. Har. Har."

"Hey, remember Saminna?"

"You mean Sari?"

"Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe."

"Why would anyone want to conquer pants? Oh, France! Ahhh…if only I had heard you correctly, college-Wilson, you would be France's president. But alas, now you only have your roommate's pants."

"The hell?"

"Never mind. You didn't hear about Sari? She died yesterday."

"Oh, crap."

"Oh, very nice House. A little girl's death ruined your plans, so now you're mad at her. Why, you teddy bear."

"Wilson? Just make sure Libby doesn't find out about this, ok?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey Dad! Did you see Sari on your way back?"

"Ummm, no I didn't. But I did see her mom. The thing is, sweetie, she…well she went home."

Libby grinned. "She did! She's all better!"

House paused. _How can I deflate this little girl? If she finds out about Sari dying, and she already knows she was on radiation, well I can't lie to her about the treatment she's going receive and she might refuse to have it. And Sari was…it's been so hard for Libby. This might make her give up the fight. She can't; we're already losing._

_She can't know. Not yet._

"Well…she won't ever be sick again. Nothing can touch her now."

"That's great! Can I call her? I want to tell her how happy I am!"

"Well, that's the other thing. You see…sometimes, when something really bad happens to you, like cancer, you don't want to remember. You want to forget everything about it. So, everything that reminds you of it, you get rid of. Your hospital pajamas, your stuffed animals…"

Libby spoke softly. "…Your friends."

House leaned back in his chair and looked visibly pained to be telling his daughter this terrible, terrible, lie, but it was his only choice.

Cuddy looked aghast at House. This was a new low. She had kept her mouth shut throughout that entire stupid conversation but this was too much.

"House, go down to the clinic."

"What!"

"You were supposed to be down there an hour ago. I'm going easy on you."

"_But Mo-om! It's not dark yet! You said I could stay out 'till it's dark! Come on, Scooter and Mickey are going roller-blading. They said they would teach me._"

Cuddy's eyes were blocks of ice and her words gave House a chill. "I need to speak to you outside. Right now."

The duo stood in the hallway, and stared each other down. Finally, Cuddy broke.

"What the hell is wrong with you House?"

"Nice introduction and exsqueeze me?"

"Who do you think you are, piling everything bad that's ever happened to you on Libby? That poor girl, do you have any idea what she's going through?"

"What are you talking about?"

"_When something bad happens to you…you just want to forget…you want to get rid of everything._ You basically told her you wanted to get rid of her, because you couldn't find another way to forget Cameron!"

Suddenly, a paternal rage filled House from the bottom of his toes six feet and three inches up to the top of his head. The rage was so strong, so hot, that he felt it burning _both_ his feet. He sneered at her.

"_Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you accuse me of hating Libby? How dare you accuse me of wanting to get rid of her? And how DARE you talk about Allison like that!_"

Cuddy's heart melted. She had seen House mean, she had seen House in pain, but she had never seen him angry like this. He wasn't even angry at this point, he was livid. And it killed her that she had caused it. The tears ran freely down Cuddy's face. She didn't even know who she was angry with at this point.

"If you don't feel that way, then why would you say those things to Libby?"

"_She's my daughter, she knows exactly what I meant, and you have no right to interpret what I say to her."_

Cuddy wanted to scream. So she did.

"_YOU DAMN WELL KNOW THAT LIBBY'S AS MUCH MY DAUGHTER AS SHE IS YOURS. DON'T YOU DARE THINK, NOT FOR A SINGLE SECOND, THAT I DON'T LOVE HER AS MUCH AS YOU DO. NOT FOR A SECOND._"

House took a step back and resisted the urge to spit on her. His dad had always taught him not to hit girls, but this time was different. This was for his girl. Like he could even tell who that was anymore.

Suddenly, their argument was interrupted by the crazy beeping of Libby's monitors. House stood paralyzed as everyone besides him rushed in there to save his daughter's life. House didn't move, he watched her vitals through the glass wall. He focused on her heart.

Up, down, up, down, up, down, up…flat.

_Author's Note…I know, I know, I'm absolutely evil to leave you guys hanging like that. Holy guacamole, that was a long chapter. Don't worry, I promise I'll update soon. Until then…a poem…I love my critics, yes I do, but only when the leave a review! My reviewers are good and fair, but when they don't say anything I want to rip out my hair! Please Review!_


	11. Heart

_Disclaimer…I own Libby and that's it. _

_Author's Note…Awww, that last chapter was so sad at the end! I don't think the rest of it was so good…kinda choppy…oh well. And if I'm not mistaken, I don't think I received any reviews. Please review for this one!_

It was still flat.

House had seen the group of assorted doctors which included Wilson, Cuddy, Foreman, and somebody that just happened to be in the hallway resort to every piece of equipment in order to get Libby's heart beating again.

_Fools. When will they learn that sometimes, when something gets so hurt, it will never work again?_

Suddenly, House realized what was going on. He pushed his way in there and started to shock her back to life. He was numb, but he was working so fast, so incredibly fast. He was dimly aware of Cuddy crying, she looked weak, and Wilson's hands on his own shoulders, repeating that it's too late, too late, too late.

House was even aware enough to notice that the doctor he didn't know had started to talk. "Time of death, eleven-oh"

"No!" House shocked her again; nothing.

"House, let her go." He felt Cuddy's small hands on his shoulders, trying desperately to save him.

Very softly, barely spoken "I can't."

Shock; nothing. Shock; nothing. Shock; something. A little quiver on the heart monitors had given House a new lease on life.

This ray of hope (although it was much more comparable to a cheap emergency flashlight of hope) gave the team new strength to feverishly work on Libby. In a blur of shouting and white and then absolute stillness, Foreman had rushed Libby off to the OR, which House was waiting outside of.

It was so. Damn. Still.

After a moment, an hour, two days, the rest of House's life, Wilson came out and sat next to House. "Hey."

"What's going on?"

Wilson sighed. How could he tell his best friend that during the surgery, they had found another tumor, a massive one, growing alongside Libby's heart, that she would need a heart transplant, but that no transplant committee would give it to her?

Wilson choked on his words.

"Well, we opened her up, trying to get to her heart, everything was moving so fast…"

House interrupted him. "Is she alive?"

Wilson looked sadly at him. "Yes, she's still alive. Just barely, but she'll pull through this one."

House let out a small sound of gratitude. Wilson hated to cut his relief short.

"House, there's something else. When we opened her up, we had to get to her heart, we thought maybe there was something surrounding it, drowning it, you know. And, well, we got to her heart, but House, there's a tumor there."

"On her heart?"

"On her heart."

"Well, then we'll just have to do some more chemo and more radiation."

"No."

"No?"

"It's too big for chemo to handle, or radiation. She needs a heart transplant."

"Then she'll get one. We'll get Cuddy to put me temporarily on the transplant committee and you're already on it, so is Cuddy, and I bet you could get Dr. Lagber to vouch for us, and I can certainly bribe, or threaten a few people. It'll be…it'll be fine."

_It's not going to be fine, you idiot. She needs a freaking heart transplant and she's not even four years old. Man, so many lies._

"Those are all long shots, and it's not going to get to the transplant committee. It's a kid with severe lung cancer. A lung cancer patient isn't going to get a heart transplant very easily. Especially a patient that…"

Wilson thought he was going to freeze to death. House's eyes were so cold.

"A patient that what?"

"A patient that…"

"Wilson, don't be a coward. Get over yourself, tell me."

"A patient that probably won't survive even with the heart. We can keep her alive for two weeks, tops."

House went all cold. Even when she got diagnosed, it was different. Now, she's dying.

And he couldn't save her if he tried. But he knew someone who could.

"Gimme some quarters."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In a nice house in Short Hills, one Mark Warner picked up the phone. He was expecting a call from his divorce lawyer.

"Please say I got the book collection. _Please. _The house isn't complete without it."

"You're getting divorced?"

"You should know, you're my divorce lawyer."

House decided that if Mark and Stacey were getting divorced, he would be the last person Mark wanted to talk to. He probably didn't remember his first name, right?

Riiiiiiiiiiight.

"No, this is Greg. Stacey's cousin? Remember me? I was at the wedding."

Mark didn't remember a cousin Greg, but he had already proved that he hadn't paid much attention during the duration of his courtship and marriage with Stacey. He had fallen in love with one girl, and one girl only, and it didn't need to be said that that girl wasn't and will never be Stacey.

"Oh yeah, I remember you. Oh, you made the funniest joke there. Umm yeah, Stacey's right here hold on…" Mark held the phone away from his face. "_Staceeeeeeeeey! Phone!_"

House rolled his eyes. Stacey hated it when people drew out the last part of her name. It was one of her little quirks that he always liked about her.

Liked. Never loved.

"Hello?"

"Stacey. It's me."

"_Greg?_"

"Yeah. Listen I got to talk to you."

Stacey gaped at the other end of the phone. He _wanted_ to _talk_? What had changed?

So, so much.

"Ummm, ok, what's up?"

"I need my…my patient to get a transplant."

"And?"

"And the transplant committee won't give it to her. She's a little girl, four tomorrow."

"Why are you calling me?"

"You're a good lawyer. You made friends at the hospital. I need you to come and I'll explain the situation to you better here."

"Greg, this really isn't that good of a time for…"

"No, it's a perfect time. You're getting divorced. You'll want to get away, get your mind off things. Believe me, this will keep you distracted."

Stacey had been with House for five years, and she had never, ever, heard him sound this sincere. This had to be serious.

"How soon do you need my down here?"

"Tonight."

Stacey groaned as she mentally compiled a packing list.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two and a half hours later, House met Stacey outside the emergency entrance. Stacey resisted the urge to gasp. Even when he had the infarction she had never seen House look this bad. He looked broken. And so, so tired.

She walked briskly over to him. "Hey."

House didn't even respond. He grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. For the tiniest piece of a second, Stacey thought he was going to kiss her. But he just pulled her along. She talked as she followed.

"So, how's the team been doing? Everyone still working here?"

"Everyone except Dr. Cameron."

"Haha, I bet she left because she couldn't stand you any longer."

Stacey couldn't have said a worse thing at a worse time if she tried. House gritted his words out. "Just. Follow. Me. Don't talk."

He turned to look at her. His eyes were moist; Stacey guessed something had gone down with the two of them. It had to happen, she obviously liked him although Stacey really couldn't fathom why.

Much like the reason she was there in the first place.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

House brought Stacey into the post-op room. He hadn't really seen Libby since the surgery, and when he had, she was sleeping, still under the affect of the heavy amnesia. He had expected her to be awake when he brought Stacey in.

He should have learned by now never to set expectations ever again. They only lead to disappointment.

Stacey stared at the little girl that lay in the hospital bed. She must have been hooked up to a million machines but Stacey thought she was beautiful. Even though she was bald, which Stacey guessed was due to cancer, there was something about her that made her look angelic.

Perhaps the obvious affect she was having on the man standing next to her?

Stacey looked at House. "This is your patient?"

"Stacey, this is Libby. My daughter. The patient that needs the heart transplant."

Shocked wasn't exactly the word for it. Traumatized didn't even begin to cover it. _House had a daughter? And she's dying? Whoa._

Suddenly Stacey had a light bulb moment. "Greg, does she have anything to do with the reason Cameron isn't here anymore?"

House wanted to kill Stacey for being so ignorant. "Yes. She's hers too."

Stacey's mouth dropped.

"The reason Cameron isn't hear is because…well, I killed her."

"You…k-k…you _killed_ Cameron!"

"She died when she was having Libby. Aneurysm."

Stacey had never fainted before in her life, and the only thing that stopped her from doing so now was the overwhelming sense that it would just make House mad.

"Stacey, I need you to make sure she gets this transplant."

Stacey gave him a brief nod. "Come with me. I'll go talk to Dr. Ameshaw right now."

House felt the tiniest sense of relief. Even by House's standards, Dr. Ameshaw was an excellent transplant surgeon and was the very influential head of the transplant committee. He was also wooed by Stacey.

They two did a sad walk to his office during which House gave a better explanation of how dire Libby's situation was. They caught him just as he was leaving. "Dr. Ameshaw?"

"Why, Stacey! How are you?"

Stacey turned to House and spoke very quietly to him. "Actually, you had better wait out here. Don't worry; I'll get him to do it."

House never knew what went on during that conversation, but it didn't matter. Dr. Ameshaw came out a tired looking man and for the first time in his career, saw House not as a rude doctor, but as a man, a widower. A father.

"I'll do the surgery tomorrow morning at 7:30. That's twelve hours from now, sixteen since Libby's last surgery. You know how risky this is?"

"Yes."

"Well, I've apparently got a long day ahead of myself, so I'm going to go home and go to sleep. Good night to you both. 7:30 sharp, I'm going into that operating room whether you're there to say good-bye or not."

Stacey blinked.

"Wilson will let you stay at his apartment tonight. He's usually up for single women staying the night. Or you can sleep in my office, whatever. I really don't care."

"What about you?"

"I'm bunking out in Libby's room for the night. I'll sleep on the chair."

"But your leg…"

"…can survive for the night."

Stacey turned to go but allowed herself one last glimpse at the man she once loved.

"Stacey?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Stacey gave him a sad smile. "No problem. See ya tomorrow."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Twenty hours later Dr. Ameshaw walked out of the operating room and sought out House. He found him sitting on a bench, twiddling his thumbs. He had been doing that since 7:31 that morning and it was 3:15 in the afternoon. Stacey was too scared to visit him, Wilson understood that House was better off left alone, though he had come to check on him every fifteen minutes or half hour, and Cuddy didn't want to add to his emotional burden by being with him, but she just sat at her desk all day, thinking over the things

Dr. Ameshaw frowned. _Fathers shouldn't have to endure this floor. And they certainly shouldn't have to endure the news this one is about to get._

He walked over to House. "Good afternoon, Dr. House."

House stretched out his arms. "Is it?"

"Dr. House, the surgery your daughter just went through was extremely complicated. It was successful, but we're having some problems waking her up."

"What?" _What? What do you mean, what? She's not waking up. She's comatose._

Dr. Ameshaw's words confirmed House's thoughts but he wasn't listening. House got up as if in a trance and walked down to Libby's room. Dr. Ameshaw might have still been talking.

House got to Libby's room and sat down in the pink plastic seat next to the bed. He took Libby's hand in his and softly rubbed circles in her arms. "I'm not leaving 'till it's over."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ten days later, House had left that chair only to shower, eat, and use the bathroom. It was one thing when Libby kept getting infections, but having these one-sided conversations with a dying child was the antechamber of Hell.

On Day Two, Cuddy had come in. She hadn't said anything to House, just sat down next to home. Since then, she left almost as rarely as House. House was glad for the company. He couldn't be alone.

By Day Eight, the possibility of Libby not being alive next week was sinking in. By Day Nine, even though she was comatose, it was clear she was in pain. Wilson was looking at her, enjoying her presence. He turned towards House.

"She was a great kid. Always did what you asked."

House murmured something unintelligible. Wilson choked his way through the conversation. He knew House had to know what he was about to tell him.

"I've had patients in the past, kids, who were kind of like her. They couldn't die while their parents were in the room. They just couldn't let them down. House, look at me." House gave him a glance, nothing more, nothing less. "You need to let go."

"It's not your daughter."

Wilson got up and left in a huff, nearly crashing with Cuddy on his way out.

"Hey."

House looked up. "Hi."

They sat in silence for the next few minutes, not knowing whether it was due to knowing too much about the other party, or too little, from having too much to say, or absolutely nothing at all.

They sat like that for 23 hours. They dozed, they read the paper, but a word didn't leave their mouths. Suddenly, House jumped up from his seat and did a very good run for a handicapped person down the hallway. Cuddy sat in shock for a few minutes, not exactly sure what to do. She glanced back at Libby, hoping…but for what? A flicker beneath her eyelid? A shift in her position? Anything.

She got up and walked around the hospital for a while, looking for House. She noticed it was completely empty, and very gray. _Where is everyone? There are other patients here. _Cuddy looked at her watch. 3:06 AM.

Cuddy must have looked for half an hour before she finally found House in the children's playroom in the Oncology Wing. He was scribbling furiously on a piece of construction paper with a green crayon. "House?" No answer. Out of the blue, Cuddy had to know what he was writing. She ripped the paper from his hands and read silently to herself:

_Favorite color yellow_

_Loves dogs_

_Favorite book is I'll Like You Forever and knows all the words by heart_

_Has a beautiful singing voice but only sings in private, when she thinks no one's listening_

_Loved "Sesame Street"_

_Loved running around the kitchen table_

The list went on and on like that. Cuddy looked up at House, tears in her eyes. "House, is this…is this a _eulogy_?"

House looked at the floor, then made eye-contact. "If I don't do it now, I won't be able to when it's time."

Cuddy ripped the paper in half. "It's not time."

House gave a brief nod and Cuddy actually saw him folding into himself. Finally, he left, to who knows where.

Cuddy spent the rest of the evening taping together the list. She smiled to herself as she noticed that House had forgotten to put down that she loved drawing pictures. She picked up the green crayon and added it in herself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

House went back to Libby's room after that, fully prepared to say good-bye. He took her hand, and wrapped her little fingers around his, just like the first thing she did for him.

Only to feel the weakest pulse, the softest fingers, the tiniest squeeze as Libby made her way back into this life.


	12. Smaller

_Disclaimer…It's actually sad how little I own. House isn't mine._

_Author's Note… Thank you for all your lovely reviews! Yeah, that chapter was a little tear-jerky. Actually, it was more akin to chopping onions on that space between your mouth and your nose. And please, when you read this, keep the child in mind. Well, enjoy and review!_

**prinnie**…_Well, I hope this chapter, well, provides some answers to your fears, if that makes sense. Also, I love that this makes you cry…in a good way! Onion chopping!_

**Flamesofthemoon**…_I love getting reviews from you…they always make me happy! Again, with the onion chopping. _

For the next two days, Libby hovered between life and death. For every step forward she took, it seemed she took another five or ten back. On Day Twelve, Dr. Lagber had spotted House looking through a file and he had approached him to say that surely if Libby wasn't awake now, then it probably meant that her body was gradually rejecting the heart.

And House knew how much that hurt.

Heck no was he going to leave her side now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

House was dozing off when there was a rustle under the sheets. He was awake in an instant to find a pair of clear, happy blue eyes staring into his.

"Libby."

Faster than anyone thought he could move, House had Libby in his arms. He pressed her little body in his chest and kissed the top of her head, thanking whatever kind of G/d there was (because he sure as heck believed now) that Libby was awake. Relief pulsed through his veins.

Obviously, Libby was a tad confused by this little display. She started to talk, only to notice for the first time she had a breathing tube stuffed down her throat. She motioned for him to take it out.

House did so hesitantly. Over the past couple weeks of his life, House had entertained himself with dreams of what Libby would say when she woke up. He knew from experience that this was stupid as she would probably just gag, he had seen too many families become disappointed when someone defied all odds and had said something stupid like "I need a glass of water" or "stop touching me."

He removed the final piece from her mouth. Libby smiled. How could he have gotten through two weeks without that smile?

"Thanks."

Exactly the right thing to say.

House beamed at her. Just then, Cuddy walked in. As soon as she saw Libby awake and able to talk she screamed, rushed over, and practically suffocated Libby with a hug. House could hear her muttering something into Libby's shoulder. Apparently, she believed too.

Libby got even more confused by this. She looked back and forth from the two adults, silently questioning their extremely moist-eyes. She briefly remembered the time House made her sit through all the "Star Wars" movies. She was bored out of her mind, so she had made him practice Jedi mind powers with her. She of course didn't believe in them, but it was fun to mess with his mind on occasion. But he played along and obviously hadn't been practicing since then.

"Soooo…what' new with you?"

Suddenly it occurred to House that Libby didn't know what had happened during the last…was it two weeks? It seemed like a lifetime.

He looked at Cuddy. She seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Libby, what's the last thing you remember?"

It didn't take Libby a half-second to answer. "A pretty lady with brown hair, green eyes, and skin like mine, all creamy. Allie. I liked her."

House gasped. _She saw Allie? My Allie? Not my Allie, can't be my Allie. Oh man, I gotta sit down. I gotta stand up. I gotta get out of here._

House practically ran out of there. Cuddy half-smiled and turned back to Libby, who was surveying her room.

"This wasn't where I was before."

Cuddy smiled for real and took a seat at the foot of the bed. "Let me start from the beginning." Libby smiled and sat Indian-style, just like she always did when she knew she was about to hear a good story. Cuddy told the whole thing, starting from the fight she and House had had (minus the fight…she actually just said that the two were having an "intense discussion" when suddenly they heard a lot of beeps) up to post-heart transplant complications. Cuddy was surprised at how much Libby was able to understand…but then again, she really wasn't.

"And that lady that I remember…that was my mom, right?"

Cuddy was shocked. _I didn't say a word about Cameron…how did she know?_

"Yes, that was your mom."

Libby smiled. "She was beautiful."

Cuddy nodded. "Yes, she was."

Libby pressed her hand to her heart. She felt its beat. Cuddy laughed a little bit. "Sound different?"

"Yeah, just a little. I wonder whose it is."

Cuddy stroked her face. She was spoke quietly, absorbed in her own thoughts on the matter. "Me too."

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Six months, what seemed like a million rounds of chemo, and what seemed like a _billion_ rounds of radiation (House would never get over seeing that on his daughter) later Wilson was examining the latest X-Ray, and comparing them to all the other ones. _All_ of them.

They were lined up, from oldest to the most recent, a perfect study of depression in black and white. Suddenly, Wilson slapped himself on the forehead. How did he not notice this when House was convinced his little girl was dying? How did he not notice this when Wilson was desperately searching for the teensiest ray of hope? How did he not notice this when he had seen Libby, practically collapsing because she was so exhausted from being sick from the chemo?

How did he not notice that this tumor, which had been haunting them for nine months now, a terrifying reminder that life was this incredibly fragile thing, was steadily shrinking?

_Author's Note…Yay! Finally, a happy chapter! I have what, two of them now? It's a little chapter, a chapterette if you will…even as I'm posting this; I'm planning on writing another chapter tonight which includes a lot of comedy. By the way, how much are you loving all these mother/daughter moments between Cuddy and Libby? Oh, and another "by the way", I like this title a lot better. Review pretty please? With sugar on top? And ice-cream? Lots and lots of ice-cream? _


	13. Life Lessons

_Disclaimer…Nothing in this story is mine except a few doctors and Libby. You can even take the doctors if you want, but Libby's all mine. Alas, $31.65 still doesn't cover buying House. Darn. Nor do I own Jansport or Barbies. Darn!_

_Author's Note…Just to keep you guys in the know, the beginning of this chapter is in early July. That's pretty consistent with the story, right? Ok, prepare for comic relief and a much-needed break for this family…its lucky 13, people! And thank you so much for the lovely reviews…reviewers are pretty!_

"Now close your eyes, don't open them, wait just a sec…"

"I can't believe I'm doing this. You suck."

Wilson was leading House to the lab where the X-Rays were posted. He wanted to surprise him. Well, this was actually more akin to taking a good five to seven years off his life.

"Can I open them yet?"

"Nope, not yet."

"Come on! Wait a minute…are you going to be naked when I open my eyes? Well, I'm flattered, but I really don't swing that way. Well, ok, maybe I'll sneak a tiny peak just to make sure I'm bigger…"

"Shut up. And open them!"

House surveyed the multiple X-Rays, not really sure what was going on. "_It's like Baskin Robins all over again!_"

Wilson tried to explain. "These are Libby's."

"Oh, I'm glad you told me because seeing her name on the bottom of all of them really threw me for a loop. I just didn't know what to think!"

"Look at the tumor. From the first one to the last one. And pay attention to all that meat in between."

"Dir-tay!"

_Well, if Libby waking up is enough to get House this far back to his old self, this is might just send him pre-Vicoden. _

House's blue eyes were wide. His mouth dropped into the shape of a small "o". He looked at the X-Rays, then back at Wilson, then back at the X-Rays.

"It's getting…it's getting smaller."

"Yeah."

"She's getting better."

"I know."

Suddenly, Wilson felt the incredible urge to jump around with House like a little girl, he was so happy. _Now that wasn't dirty at all!_

House whooped and pumped his fist into the air. They certainly weren't out of the woods yet, but they had a path now, a concrete path and they were starting to see the light.

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It was the last week of August. The tumor was gone. Test after test after painful test had sent a happy Libby home with a clean health bill. However, they were going to do another round of chemo in the middle of September, and one at the end of October, just to make sure. But for now, the two Houses had bigger fish to fry.

Libby was starting kindergarten.

Way back in the beginning of August, when it became apparent that Libby was getting better () Libby convinced House to sign her up, saying that if he needed to, he could pull her out, but she really wanted to make some friends and be a normal kid. And who was House to refuse her the chance to be normal?

But now, as the first day of school was three days away, she was starting to have second thoughts, but she never voiced them. However, House could tell something was wrong, and it was easy to deduce what, although he didn't exactly know why. Since she was living at home () the once ridiculously long list was of things that could bug her was greatly reduced and besides, it was easier for House to observe his daughter now that they were living in the same apartment again ()

The two days came and went, and soon it was their self-proclaimed "K-Day." House stood with her at the threshold of the kindergarten classroom, suddenly feeling incredibly bad for her. He knew the school had sent all the parents in the grade a note telling them to explain cancer to their child because a little girl, _his_ little girl had it, but the kids were obviously ill-prepared. Libby visibly regressed as 22 heads full with hair of all different colors stared at her bald one.

That day went down as one of House's proudest days. _He_ wouldn't have had the courage to leave his side if he was in that position, but Libby did. He watched with love as Libby cautiously made her way over to a, really the, group of girls that had all clustered together.

"Hi."

One girl who House would hate forever blurted out "why are you bald?"

Libby touched her head self-consciously, and it only took an awkward half-second for her to regain her composure. "What? It's a new fashion trend. All the models are wearing it." With a flourish, Libby pulled out something from her baby blue Jansport.

It was the magazine Cuddy had given her when she first started her chemo. It was filled with pictures of a bunch of celebrities and models and such all sporting cancer-related baldness. Libby smiled. "See? Everyone famous has it. It's just taking a while for the fashion to get here." Libby pretended to vogue. "Besides, I don't have a choice. Better to go out in style right? And who cares what we look like now? By the time we're in sixth grade, we'll all look different." The other girls giggled and everybody began talking at once about how beautiful baldness was and that they were about to play Barbies and would Libby like to play too. The teacher, who House didn't know why she hadn't intervened in the first place, raised her eyebrows at House as if to say _"wow."_ House gave her a somewhat arrogant nod and left.

House didn't know what happened that day, but what happened the next day when Cuddy had tagged along to drop Libby off would leave an imprint on his mind for the rest of his life. When they got there, the room was completely silent. The trio all stared in shock. They had never seen anything so…incredible.

All the girls had shaved their heads bald.

Libby looked at them in awe as tears of joy rolled down her cheeks. Cuddy had her hand over her mouth and seemed to be crying too. House looked down at his cane and noticed that he was shaking.

Finally, Libby broke the silence. "You guys…you look…_beautiful_."

The girls all shrieked happily and in attempted-unison shouted "surprise!"

_Surprise!_

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It turned out Libby had as many people skills as House didn't. By the end of the week, she had enough play-dates in her future to keep her content for the next three years. The final round of chemo was done, and House could see Libby's hair starting to return. The angelic strawberry blonde curls were back in action, and they were very much welcomed by Cuddy, who had taken to doing Libby's hair on weekends.

Libby was still small, definitely the smallest girl in her grade. Also definitely the prettiest. House and Wilson didn't miss the looks on a few kindergarten boys' faces when she talked to them. They thanked their lucky stars that for the time-being, Libby seemed pretty shy around boys.

September came and went and soon it was the middle of October. House was facing a challenge he hadn't anticipated. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure if he would be so lucky. Parent-teacher conferences.

Libby was on a Girls Scouts trip pumpkin-picking. House didn't even remember signing the slip letting her go, but was relieved that he didn't have to worry about her as he sat on this random orange plastic chair that was set up temporarily outside the classroom.

He was so thankful that he wasn't in another type of orange plastic chair.

"Dr. House?"

House stood up and sat across from the teacher. She was an older woman, presumably in her late 50's, scary thin, with a creepy drawn out face. _Poor Libby has to be with her every day._

"Hi, I'm Ms. Kay. I assume you're Libby's dad?" _Ms. Kay? That's so clichéd._

"That's what the test said, but I've got my reservations."

Ms. Kay frowned. "Oh, ok. Well, we're not here to talk about you."

"If I had a nickel…"

"We're here to talk about Libby. You know you have a very bright girl on your hands."

"Yes."

"She's very advanced for her age. When we finished the alphabet, she started piecing the letters together to form the words she knew. It was amazing what she could do on her own. Then, during reading time, all the other kids just looked at pictures, but she picks up a story-book she had never seen before and was able to read it to me! And, well, have you ever heard of Mrs. Robinson? She works here?"

"Yes, I've heard she's very popular with Jesus."

Ms. Kay's frown deepened. "Well, we have a special reading teacher here named Mrs. Robinson. She helps kids who are having some difficulty reading. But a few other teachers, the principal, Mrs. Robinson and I have talked about this and we decided that Libby could go to her on every odd day at 11:30-you know what odd day means right-an odd day in the rotation-anyway, she would go to her every odd day at 11:30 and she would formerly teach Libby how to read. We discussed possibly moving her up to the first grade, maybe even second. But then we thought that we would say how the reading classes went."

"I haven't been to school in a while, but if I remember correctly, we did math in the first and second grade too."

House was staring her down. Ms. Kay blushed. "Well, she's quite good at math too. We taught the kids all the numbers, 1-10, then she raised her hand and asked what would happen if you put them together. I couldn't believe it. This brings me to my next proposal…"

"I don't think I'm ready for a proposal yet."

"Listen, _bucko_, if you don't want your daughter to succeed in life, that's your own beef to bill. But dammit, I _will not _let another kid of mine be a failure!"

"Wait a minute…you have other children! You should have told me when we first started dating!"

Ms. Kay was fuming. She gritted every word out. "_I'm. Going. To. Ignore. All. Further. Comments. We. Have. A. Math. Teacher. Like. Mrs. Robinson. Named. Mr. Naunbaum. He's. Very. Good. He's. Willing. To. Work. Out. A. Similar. Deal. Ok? Ok."_

"Ok, so odd days with Mrs. Robinson and when with Mr. Naunbaum?"

"Even. Days. At. 9:00."

"Ta-ta, Ms. Kay!"

"GOOD-BYE!"

She practically blasted House from the room. He chuckled on his way out and couldn't wait to talk to Cuddy. Now where was she?

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He found her at her house, watching a television.

"General Hospital is better. It starts in half an hour."

Cuddy turned to him. "What the…oh, hey. Yeah, I was just waiting for it to begin."

"Oh."

The both stood next to each other awkwardly, fighting a sudden magnetism. House took a step towards her, then two steps back. Cuddy frowned. _Isn't that how it always is?_

"Sooo…I just got back from parent-teacher conferences."

"How's our girl doin'?" Cuddy blushed. "That's not how it…it sounded better in my head."

House was turning red too. "Ummm, she's doing great. Really smart. They're thinking about moving her up a grade."

"Wow, that is great!"

"Yeah, it is."

House nervously shuffled his feet. He felt just like a little kid asking a girl to a dance. Which was incredibly stupid because first of all, House was no little kid, as his mother assured him. Second of all, he wasn't asking Cuddy anything, anywhere.

Then why did he find himself getting closer, closer, closer to her face until he was kissing her?

And why did she kiss him back?

_Author's Note…Wheeee, they finally kissed! Aww. I love this story. Ok, my pretties, please review! Thank you! Oh, and by the way, I'm guessing your all pretty happy over Libby's clean health bill. Just please keep the title in mind…it might come back to haunt you until next chapter. But don't worry…do I ever leave you hanging for long? Don't do me the same injustice…please review!_


	14. It Was Perfect

_Disclaimer…Don't own nothin' ya'all. Feel free to use the names of any of the people I create here except for Libby. Oh, and I especially don't own Garth Brooks' "The Dance." Fabulous song, by the way. If you know it, that's a spoiler (for this chapter)._

_Author's Note…I don't feel so good today so I figured "hey, why not write another chapter?" Haha, chapter 13 isn't even showing up yet. So, if I get any reviews that aren't mentioned (please please please) sorry about that. Take this chapter as an apology gift. And oh yeah, Libby still has one more chemo left…but I take care of that in like, the first sentence._

It was the end of October. Libby had just finished her ultimate, super-last round of chemo (or at least that's what House hoped to G/d and back for). This one seemed to be the hardest. She missed a whole week of school; she was throwing up for so long. But that wasn't what was worrying Libby.

Every year, the Girl Scouts hosted a father/daughter dance for all its troupe members. Libby had talked about it at great length with Cuddy; she thought she shouldn't even mention it to her dad, but Cuddy pushed her to do it. House would do it just because he loved her. But Cuddy didn't really like talking to Libby about it; it reminded her too much of a talk she had had to have with him for…two weeks now? Thirteen days, sixteen hours, and seven minutes to be exact. Yes, Cuddy thought herself a bit pathetic for knowing and going so far as to memorize the exact moment House kissed her.

But it wasn't nearly as pathetic as House thought himself for knowing the exact same thing.

Cuddy, tired of the conversation, was practically dragging Libby down the hallway to the Diagnostics Lounge. They both stood at the threshold, looking at the man which caused them both a crazy amount of angst. More so than he had any right to.

Cuddy nudged Libby forward gently. "Go on."

"Dad?"

House looked up and turned around so he was sitting and directly facing her. "What's up? How ya feeling?"

"Oh, umm, I'm fine. I was just…well…you know the Girl Scouts have this dance, a father/daughter dance…and I was wondering…you don't have to go if you don't want to…I mean…it's not a rule or anything. But I mean…you could come if you wanted too."

House smiled. "I would love to."

Libby's eyes grew wide. "You would?"

"Yes, of course."

Cuddy squeezed Libby's shoulder. "See? I told you."

House laughed. "What? You didn't think I would want to come?"

Libby blushed. "Well, it's just you always say how stupid and sappy the activities they have are, is all."

Now it was Cuddy's turn to laugh. "House, you're an idiot."

"I try."

"Well, you certainly don't disappoint."

Libby looked back and forth between them. "Ooooookay, it's in two days. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"I'm positive."

Libby grinned. "Thanks, Dad." She walked over and gave House a sweet kiss on the cheek. House's heart melted. These days, it was just too easy to do.

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The night of the dance arrived. House knocked on the bathroom door, once, twice, three times. "You almost ready, Libs?"

"Yeah! Two seconds, I promise!"

"One…Two…Thr…" Libby burst from the bathroom, all aglow in the light blue dress Cuddy had gotten her the day before.

"That was three seconds."

"Two and a half." Libby surveyed House's attire. He was wearing black dress pants, a black sports jacket, and a sky blue button-down shirt. "You clean up nice."

"Why thank-you, m'lady."

Ten minutes later (House said seven, Libby said thirteen) they arrived at the school. They sat in the car uncomfortably for a couple minutes in silence. Finally, Libby broke it. "Dad, if you want to go home or something, I can…I'd understand. I can stay here and hang out with my friends. It'll be fine."

"No, no. I'll stay."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Come on. Let's go."

The music was blaring some random little girl songs. As if taken over by some strange, awkward-activated magnetism, the girls that were already there and just arriving drifted towards Libby. She glanced helplessly as they led her to the dance floor. House nodded as if to encourage her to enjoy herself. She smiled. House walked over to the punch bowl and prayed that it was spiked as he downed a Vicoden. _I'm going to need a lot more of these tonight._

He couldn't have imagined.

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Libby and her "crew" as House called them in his mind had been dancing for an hour and forty-five minutes, no food, little water. The DJ (somebody's uncle) announced that it was time for a last dance, a dance for "the girlies and the daddies."

Oh, dear.

Libby walked shyly over to House. "If it will bother your leg or something, that's fine. I'm probably not a good dancer anyway."

House stared in part shock/part pleasure at Libby. _Here she is, providing me with the perfect opportunity to sit out, the ultimate excuse to sit out, who am I to refuse it?_

_I don't want to be the kind of father that sits out._

House got up. "Come on."

"We're going?"

"Yeah. To dance."

Libby grinned. House led her out to the dance floor and they both swayed awkwardly as only this unique father and daughter could. A sad song was playing about a dance. _What is wrong with this DJ? Who would play this song at an elementary school dance targeted at five and six year old girls? _House listened to the words.

_Looking back on the memory of_

_The dance we shared 'neath the stars above_

_For a moment all the world was right_

_How could I have known that you'd ever say good-bye_

Suddenly, House felt Libby begin to shake. He recognized that shake. It was the first tremble of a seizure.

Before House even processed that information, Libby was on the ground, her head making a heavy thump as it made contact with the hard dance floor, her body shaking like madness. House vaguely remembered that at some point before he dropped to his knees to try to calm her body (_you can't calm it without drugs, get her drugs, anything_) he yelled out to call an ambulance. In one of Libby's spasmodic movements, her elbow had collided with House's bad leg. _It hurts so much more than it should. _ For the rest of his life, House would associate that song with blue dresses, screaming girls, his daughter's blood. Tears.

_And now I'm glad I didn't know_

_The way it all would end_

_The way it all would go_

_Our lives are better left to chance_

_I could have missed the pain_

_But I've had had to miss_

_The dance_

The EMT's were frantically injecting Libby with something that would make the seizures stop. She had had another one before they got to the school and she was already starting to quiver again. House sat helplessly in the vehicle. He felt too numb to do anything but stare.

One of the EMT's watched House and asked him if he could tell whether the seizure was the cause of the fall or if the fall was the cause of the seizure.

"The seizure. It was the seizure's fault."

The sympathetic EMT nodded and didn't ask anymore questions. He just told the other one that she had a concussion and they had to hook her up to the transportable ventilator because the machine that was monitoring her breathing was beeping like crazy and her lips were turning blue. House didn't care. It was his Libby, his baby they had strapped to that gurney and that was all that was important.

_Holding you_

_I held everything_

_For a moment_

_Wasn't I a king?_

_If I'd only known_

_How the king would fall_

_Then who's to say_

_You know I might have changed it all_

Cuddy was waiting for them at the Emergency Entrance. Looking back, House had no idea how she knew to be there, he didn't remember the EMTs paging her. But she was there, right where House needed her. He watched as they wheeled Libby in and stood outside for a few minutes until Cuddy broke down in sobs into House's chest. She cried and she cried and she cried. House just numbly patted her back. Their almost robotic moment was broken by Wilson's urgent page: "_Infection. Heart surgery. Operating Room 12._"

_And now_

_I'm glad I didn't know_

_The way it all would end_

_The way it all would go_

_Our lives _

_Are better left to chance_

_I could have missed the pain_

_But I've had had to miss_

_The dance_

House and Cuddy sat silently next to each other in the operating waiting room. Cuddy was still crying. House didn't remember crying, but he remembered that it seemed only natural that his face was wet. House awkwardly put his arm around Cuddy's shoulder and pulled her closer. That felt natural too. Cuddy gazed up at House through her tears.

"How was her dance?"

_Yes, our lives _

_Are better left to chance_

_I could have missed the pain_

_But I've have to had_

_To miss_

_The dance_

House looked at her. "It was perfect."

_Yes, I've had had to miss_

_The dance_


	15. Not Ready to Let Go

_Disclaimer…Make love, not lawsuits! Disclaimers are hot._

_Author's Note…Ok, that last chapter was incredibly sad. Sorry I took a while posting this chapter…I had a good 1000 or so words written before I deleted it all because I just didn't like it. I was about 750 words into Chapter 15: Plan B until I decided I didn't like that either. Third time's a charm! Thank you so much for all your fabbity-fab-fab reviews…they made me so happy! Oh, and by the way, if you read the last chapter out loud, or at least the second part when they're at the dance and listening to the song, it's a lot better. Unfortunately, it's also much sadder. But better. And another BTW…last one I promise…obviously, this story is taking place in the future, but everything (the music, the fashion, the politics and most importantly, medical advances) are in funk with this year. I wish I could predict what it would be like but I don't. _

**COffeAddict86**_…I'm hugging you back because of all your beautiful, long reviews that you leave me! I love reading them, and doggone it; they always motivate me to write a new chapter. Hugs, not drugs! Except Vicoden! Haha, again, thank you so much!_

**Prinnie**_...Oh my gosh, I know, House and Cuddy are so sweet together! And yes, of course I read "The Enigma." (BTW, whoever sees this and hasn't read that, it's very good! Different, but good!) I left a review, maybe you haven't gotten it yet, but it's posted. _

**Flamesofthemo0n**_…__Ok, time for a confession…I cried too. Yes, I know I wrote it, but it was so sad and I hated that I had to do it but it came together so nicely and wah! I was like a little baby._

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_Two Weeks Later_

Once again, House was in an orange plastic chair. He took out a Crayola marker he had stolen from Wilson back in the time of who knows when and began to doodle onto the armrest of Libby's bed.

"That's hospital property, you know." House turned to see Cuddy leaning against the doorframe, smiling sadly. "Oh, darn. I was doing such a good job of giving the hospital a good name and now I've gone and ruined it. I don't know how I'll be able to live with myself." He kept doodling.

"I never said I had a problem with it."

"True that."

Cuddy pulled up a chair and took a seat next to House. "You know, she was happy. It wasn't long, but she was happy."

House stared straight ahead of him. "She's not ready yet."

Cuddy looked down at the comatose girl that lay before them. "You've got to let go. And I wasn't talking about Libby." And on that note, she stood up and left, leaving House all by himself. He looked down at his creation.

_Libby House was here. 10/12/05-12/10._

Angrily, House licked his fingers and smudged it away.

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_Two days later_

The ringing cell-phone jerked House from his nightmarish sleep. He stared down the clock's angry red numbers: 10:39. He groggily hobbled towards his jacket pocket.

"Hello?"

"Dr. House, this is Ms. Kay, Libby's teacher. Do you remember me?"

"How could I forget? We got steamy."

"Dr. House, I really have no time…"

"We really rumbled a few desk drawers, didn't we?"

"Dr. House! This is not why I called you! I wanted to know when the funeral was!"

House was dead silent on the other end. He didn't come up with a reply until four minutes later. "Well, when you call this late, one must assume that it's for a booty call."

"GOOD-BYE!" With a heated click, Ms. Kay hung up. House put down the phone next to Libby's bed. _Mission accomplished._

He looked down at the bed, only to see a pair of blue eyes identical to his own under a pair of strawberry-blonde raised eyebrows.

House (stunned) and his cane (also stunned) fell to the ground with a crash. Libby rushed out of bed to help him up, (which was in her nature…her mother's nature, really) but was jerked back onto the bed by the respirator to which she was hooked up to. Her head banged down on the arm of the bed, causing a loud knocking sound.

Cuddy, who just happened to be walking down to Libby's room while this little scene was taking place, heard the sound effects. Assuming the worst, she sprinted down to Room 218 to find Libby nearly suffocating (laughing hysterically with a respirator in your mouth can apparently do that to you) and House's hands reaching up from behind the bed, trying to grab onto a sheet to help him up.

And Cuddy, for the first time she could remember in a very long time, threw back her head and laughed, because that's what these people did to her.

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The day Libby went home from the hospital was the day House approximated would be her funeral. It had been such a long haul for everyone, and it seemed as though it was finally ending.

It did seem that way, didn't it?

House and Libby stood on the threshold of the hospital entrance. All Libby had done since her grand re-entrance to the world was talk about how much she wanted to go home. Now, about to face the outside world, she hesitated.

House knew why: change was scary.

But in his mind, it was also brought about the best things in his life.

He nudged her softly. "You ready?"

She looked up at him and wiped her hair out of her eyes. "Yup. Let's go."

And the two strode out in the sun, limp and all.

_Author's Note…I know, I know, that was a small chapter. Sorry. I was thinking about ending it right then and there, but I think I will continue it. I already know what I'm doing for the next chapter (no re-writes…yes!) and I think it will be pretty darn long. So, in the meantime, please review…very much appreciated._


	16. Back In The Game

_Disclaimers…Seriously, disclaimers are so hot. Ok, you know the drill…I don't own anything. Not House, not Pokemon, not Kraft, not Marco OR Polo…yeah, yeah, don't go mockin' the pathetic!_

_Author's Note…Thank you so much to those who reviewed. I read them and I squeal…quite embarrassing, actually. Anyway, this chapter should be nice to read…major time jumps. Ok…enjoy and review!_

_And let me just note to _**blueyedluv**_...I'm sorry I can't post this on the regular review board but it wasn't working for me for some reason. So it's going here: I have waited quite a while to read your story and let me tell you something. It was so worth the wait. Wow. That was amazing…I loved it. It was a nice take on the way things in my opinion should have gone down…but then we wouldn't have gotten "3 Stories." Oh well. I can't wait for an update._

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_First Grade_

"House!"

"Polo!"

"House!"

"I _said _polo. This is pretty generous of me, considering that you're actually supposed to say 'Marco' which is not pronounced 'House.'"

"_Where are you!_"

"I can't tell you! That would ruin the game!"

Cuddy resisted the urge to scream and continued running around House's apartment, looking for him. She didn't know what she was doing there, or what she had done last night, but the hangover-like headache was pretty tell-tale. Cuddy and House weren't dating, but it was painstakingly obvious to everyone (well, everyone that could stand to be around House so that narrows it down to Wilson, Libby, and…Cuddy) around them that they wanted to be. Cuddy continued the stomping and nearly ran Libby over on her way to the kitchen.

"Oh, sorry sweetie."

Libby looked up, confused. "Umm, that's ok. What are you doing here?"

Cuddy opened and closed her mouth, not exactly sure what to say. She opted for the truth. "You know what? I'm not exactly sure."

Libby murmured "_great_" but Cuddy was too wrapped up in her own thoughts that she was voicing aloud to notice.

"I mean, this is very weird for me. I never wake up in some random guy's apartment, especially not with a hangover. My drunken self knows better than that."

Libby resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was only six and a half, but after living with her dad and his…_honest_ ways she knew exactly what it meant to be drunk and hungover. House had never told her what sex was or had The Talk but after a while, she had gotten tired of hearing all his jokes to his many friends (all two of them) and asked Wilson what he was talking about. Wilson had stuttered and bumbled before finally explaining where babies come from. Libby, innocent as she was, hadn't been expecting such an answer and was so embarrassed that she couldn't look at Wilson for a week. Needless to say, this ruined their plan of never mentioning their little chat to House. "He's in the shower."

Cuddy blinked. "What?"

"He got in about ten minutes ago, which is a really long time for him, which means he did something…with you last night that he's thinking about really hard."

"Oh…ok…well, I have to go to work now, so bye."

"Um, Aunt Lisa?'

"Yeah?"

"You might want to go home and get changed first."

Cuddy looked down and noticed for the first time that she was wearing one of House's t-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and nothing else. She blushed. _Well, you've just scarred the child for life. Nice job. _"Oh, yeah. I'll…I'll go do that." And horrified, she grabbed her purse and turned towards the door to leave.

"Wait!"

Cuddy whirled around just in time to catch her car keys that Libby tossed to her. "Thanks!" And with that she rushed out the door, thoroughly embarrassed with herself. It had been happening much too much lately.

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Cuddy was engaged in her usual "why did I even apply for this job?" strut when she saw House walking away from the clinic. She debated whether she should run up to him or run away from him. Seeing as she was wearing heals, she opted for walking sassily up to him and barely resisted the urge to slap him across the face.

House seemed to notice her for the first time that day and _he_ resisted to the urge to slap _her _across _her_ face.

"Hey, Hot Pants."

Cuddy gaped at his brutal…well; she liked to think that last bit was honest.

"Hey, Man Whore."

"Our Native American names are so much cooler than Foreman's."

Cuddy blinked in confusion. "What's Foreman's?"

"Don't-Make-Me-Snap-My-Fingers-In-An-S-_Form-A-Tion_!"

"Ok, that's just stupid."

"Foreman begs to differ."

"Well, either way, I came to inform you that you are now directionally impaired."

"Oh?"

"The clinic's that way."

"Oh, darn. I get confused a lot lately. Maybe I shouldn't even be treating patients anymore."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "_Oh, you're so clever. I bet you're just beating the girls down with that hot cane of yours._"

"Well, apparently, the cane isn't strong enough for _some women_ I know."

Cuddy gasped. "Well, if you want to talk about last night than FINE!"

"Fine! Let's talk! You just…_left_ without even…doing anything!"

"Oh, I think I did plenty!'

"Don't even go there. Then, after you _leave_ Libby comes into the kitchen to tell me that she's not sure what we did last night, and that she doesn't want to know, but that she doesn't think that I would like it if a boy did that to her!"

"Libby said that?"

"Yes, she did!"

Cuddy took a few deep breaths. "Then why don't you…me…_we_ try and not do that?"

"Gee, I think it's a tad too late for that."

"To have a relationship?"

House opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. His mouth was suddenly dry. Finally, he…well, it sounded like he regurgitated something out. "_What?_"

"Oh come on, House. We both know that we have feelings for each other, I promise that if things don't work out, I won't fire you or anything, you're a bastard to begin with so if things don't work out, then your _mis_demeanor won't change, and you've already proved that you don't have a huge problem with dating someone who works with you."

House stared at her. _Oh, very nice Lisa. Bringing up the guy's ex-love to prove your point that he should love you is the best way to his heart. Nice job. No wonder you're single._

At last, House said something. "It's not about that."

Cuddy pounced. "It's not about _what_?"

"It's not that we…listen, the thing is, I can't do a square job as a parent even if I was paired with June Cleaver, so by myself I'm…you're doing a…you're being her mom and you're doing more than a square job."

Cuddy took a step back. He was, of course, was right. If things didn't work out between the two of them, Libby would get hurt as well.

"You're right. But for the record, I wish you weren't." Cuddy turned and walked away as House stared sadly after her.

And so it was(n't.)

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_Third Grade_

"Tommy Carnelle and Matt Page!"

The third grade watched as the fastest boys in the class raced each other around the dirty red track. Mr. Ian, the gym teacher, watched with some pride as he gripped an old stopwatch. Tommy Carnelle crossed the finish line a couple seconds before Matt Page. "And time! That's better than the fourth graders, Tommy, nice job. Anyone want to go up against him? We've still got another fifteen minutes left!"

Brianna Harrison nudged Libby. "I dare ya!" The girls surrounding the pair all shouted in agreement and pushed Libby forward. Libby twisted her head towards them. "You guys stink" she joked.

The two took their place at the starting line. As he raised the whistle to his mouth, Libby could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes. But she figured that it could have been the glint of the sun off the whistle or something like that.

Mr. Ian blew the whistle and the pair took off. Libby was literally kicking up dirt behind her. _It feels like flying._ She wasn't even paying attention to the race, just this…incredible feeling in the pit of her stomach.

And before she knew it, the race was over and her friends were cheering like madness. Mr. Ian patted her hard, almost angrily, on the back. "Good job. Beat the school record for some of the fifth graders."

Some of the boys whooped. Tommy walked over to them and muttered that he just lost because he was tired. ("Fifteen seconds worth of tired!")

Libby walked back over to her friends. "I won?"

"_Ya_, in a major way!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, Libby, you should have seen that, it was awesome, it was like…woah."

Libby laughed it off and blushed. "Whatever, _ladies._"

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Dinner for House and Libby when they got to have it was a sacred thing. It was rare that House got off work early enough to eat with his daughter, let alone sit down with her. So, the two created a set of rules for the occasion. One of those such rules was the "take no phone calls (just pages)" rule, which House suspected would come into play many a time when Libby entered middle school and high school.

So, that night, when the phone rang during dinner, neither of them moved to go get it. They carried on their conversation about what was the point of animal and character shaped macaroni and cheese…to promote cannibalism? which House had taught the definition to Libby (that night they were having "Pokemon" Kraft macaroni and cheese.) The phone rang and it rang and it rang until finally House jumped up and answered the phone.

"What do you want?" He sounded annoyed and mildly tired.

"Hello errrm, Dr. House? This is Mr. Ian, Libby's gym teacher? I…"

House mocked him. "Are you going to keep talking in that high pitched voice? And make every statement as a question?" Back at the table, Libby's head was in her hands…part-gratitude, part-anger, part-sympathy, and part-embarrassment.

"Ummm…well, today Libby had gym and we were doing track, and Libby did very well. Exceptionally well."

"_I seeeeeeee._"

"Yeah, so well that I would like to include her in next week's District Track Meet. Primarily, it's only for fourth, fifth, and sixth graders but since Libby beat out a few of the records…the school wanted to know if we could get oral confirmation that she would be going."

"I guess, sure. When is it?"

"Next Sunday, at 11:30. Some one will have to take her."

"Oh, oh no, looks like we're going through a tunnel…I think I'm losing you…"

"But I called on a land phone…"

"We…live…in…mobile…home…too…late…bye!" House smirked as he hobbled back to the table.

"Who was _that_?"

"Your gym teacher."

Libby groaned. "_Dad! You were making fun of my teacher?_"

"Why does it still surprise you?"

Libby shrugged. "It doesn't surprise me. It just…stupidfies me."

"Stupefy."

"Oh yeah. Haha."

It never ceased to amaze House that any daughter of his, or rather, anyone that ever lived with him, was able to laugh off any mistake that he pointed out.

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Thursday, Friday, and then Saturday came and went and soon it was the day of the meet. House had been looking forward to this with silent anticipation. Actually, it wasn't so much silent as it was not being able to get a word in because Wilson was too busy talking about it. He had apparently done track in high school and college and liked to think Libby his little protégé. He even showed her a picture of himself just before a track meet. She brought it to her father who now called Wilson "Short-Shorts" as punishment for leaving so little of the male anatomy up to Libby's imagination.

House was sitting on the bleachers when he spotted Wilson coming towards him. As he got nearer, House grabbed the opportunity to publicly mock him.

"_Who…Wears…Short-Shorts?_

_He…Wears…Short-Shorts"_

Wilson grabbed the cane right before House burst into further song. "Way to ruin a good time there, Short-Shorts."

"It was only a good time for you."

"Yes, but still, a good time."

"Shut up. When's Libby going?"

"Ten minutes."

"How's she doing?"

"All nerves. Big kids."

"She's not here. Where is she?"

"Well, she was really nervous, so I gave her a joint to mellow her out. I also gave her some steroids so she's still an edge."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Hahaha, nothing's funnier than kids on drugs."

"Except doctors on drugs!"

"Seriously, where is she?"

"Right here!" Libby jumped up onto the bleachers in the comically big school shirt the school had given her to wear. Wilson resisted the urge to laugh and was about to say something when House commented first.

"When do you go?"

"A couple minutes. I just wanted to make sure you were here and stuff. Did you get a hotdog or something?"

"Nope, but I will later."

"Ok."

Wilson finally chimed in. "How ya feelin'?"

The horn that signified the race would be starting soon blared. Libby glanced at the tracks.

"_Mellow and yellow._ Got to go, bye!" She rushed down the stairs as House dissolved in laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"My kid's so cool" House gasped out. The horn rang out again and House turned his attention to the runners. Libby looked incredibly small next to everyone else, but she ran like nobody's business. She easily beat out the competition in the first, second, and third round. The fourth round was finals, and Libby was the only one left from her school. The runners took their place as someone…a district official or something…stepped up in front of the crowd.

"I would like to commend our young runners who have made it thus fair. It was quite a challenge for these youngsters. I remind everyone that there are no winners or losers in this sport, just…"

"_Blah, blah, blah._"

"Wilson! Me is shocked! Me didn't know you had a competitive streak!"

Wilson rolled his sighs. "I became Head of Oncology when I was 36. What did you think?"

The fourth race began. This was the first one Libby had someone she could heartily compete against, and House could tell she was loving it. He remembered when he could run. He loved it too.

Libby came in second place, her first for the day. The judges placed a medal around her neck that was so heavy, it virtually slumped her body over. House smiled and cheered. It felt good to be back in the game.


	17. Collapse

_Disclaimer…Do you even have to ask anymore? If I didn't own House in chapters 1-16, why would I own it in Chapter 17?_

_Author's Note…Thank you so much for all the mad-awesome reviews. I love them. And this chapter? I think it's going to get sad. _

**COffeAddict86**_…__Aww…that's so nice! Well, I guess you're not going to like this chapter then (spoiler!) but where I take away from House, I will make up somewhere else. _

**prinnie**_…Thank you so much! Hehe, I like "Short-Shorts" too! And there's not a ton of House/Cuddy in this chapter, but there will be next chapter. _

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_Sixth Grade_

"_Happy birthday to you!_

_Happy birthday to you!_

_Happy birthday dear Lisa!_

_Happy birthday to you_!"

If Cuddy felt any embarrassment at being sung to by her "professional inferiors" and eleven-year old to boot on a lonely Friday, she didn't show it. She liked to think that she kept her crazy in check.

She leaned over the cake that Libby and Wilson that they had made a couple days ago (actually, probing from House to both parties had proved that Libby did the entire thing, right down to the "Happy 29th" while Wilson had watched a baseball game) had made her. House had point blank refused to help because "no matter how big the cake would be, there would simply not be enough room for those candles! And what would be the point of a cake without candles? None! There would be no point!"

Cuddy blew out the candles and cut the cake. She briefly wondered why she was still having birthday parties. She was (_shudder_) 46 years old for goodness sakes, why did she take part in this cringe-worthy ritual. It was a conspiracy, she decided. What else could it be? One is forced to ruin their diet and stuff one's face with calories (although granted, the cake was quite good), accept either horrifyingly distasteful gifts or horrifyingly bland gifts, and then waste an hour writing personalized thank-you notes. Yes, definitely a conspiracy.

But there was one good attribute to this day…Cuddy was _finally _going to one of Libby's track meets, the final one for her elementary school. House rarely brought anyone along with him to these events besides Wilson, but Wilson was in New York for his mother's birthday and Libby had insisted that Cuddy come.

Actually, the entire week for Libby seemed bright. Today: track meet. Tomorrow: Dinner cruise for the students and parents of the sixth grade class. Technically, Cuddy wasn't a parent but House _had _invited her, saying that Wilson simply did not have the correct reproductive system to be his date. She knew it wasn't a date, and that she shouldn't entertain herself with the notion that it was and that she should really go on an _actual _date, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. In the back of her mind, Cuddy kept on believing that one day, everything would just fall into place. Besides, she was one of two legal guardians. And medical proxy if, G/d forbid, Libby was sick and needed treatment and House couldn't decide what to do and even the thought made Cuddy nauseous. _Right, just erase that from your mind._ And on Monday, Libby would graduate. Cuddy hadn't dared to dream that Libby would get a glimpse over the first grade horizon but here House was, getting letters from the school informing him that Libby would be enrolled as an all-honors student unless he called her future-guidance counselor at so-and-so number to pull her out.

Cuddy smiled to herself. Yes, despite little bumps in the road, everything finally seemed to be going well for her Houses.

Unfortunately, things are most opportune to go bad when they are going well.

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Cuddy surveyed her surroundings. She was sitting with House in the crowded bleachers, munching on a hotdog. (_Man, your diet has really gone to#&$._) She leaned over to House. "This the last race?"

"Yeah. No more track 'till next fall."

"Oh."

"It'll be good for her, to take a little break. She really likes it, ya know?"

"I know. She's got a passion."

House laughed. "She's got _five _passions."

Cuddy looked up. "_Oh really_?"

"Yeah." House counted off his fingers. "Track, school, cooking…you know she had the best time making that cake…umm, that art thing she does…what's it called?"

"I know what you're talking about, the thing the school sponsers? That's over too, right?"

"Yeah, it's only for the elementary schools. But I'm sure she'll find something next year. And the fifth one is having many a 'lively discussion' with me."

"Oh? About what?"

"Which radio station to play in the car."

Cuddy laughed out loud. _See, this is why it's so hard for you to go on dates. It's never natural like this. No one else will ever make you feel like this._

Down at the starting point, Libby was sweating mildly and breathing heavily. Her chest felt tight and she was uncomfortably warm, but she was sure it was nothing if not nerves.

"Runners take your marks…"

Libby got into her typical starting position as House and Cuddy strained to see.

"Get set…"

Suddenly, House felt incredibly nervous. He didn't know what if was from; he had never acted like one of those overly-competitive parents. Maybe it was because this would be Libby's last elementary race. But that still didn't make any sense.

"GO!"

It was as though her legs were jelly. Libby was way behind everyone, and they were almost a quarter of the way done. _Push harder._

Half-way done. Cuddy nudged House. "What's going on? Why is she going so slow for this one?" _Push. Harder._

Three-quarters of the way done. House stared helplessly at the scene that was playing out before his eyes. "I don't know." _PUSH HARDER!_

Suddenly, Libby found her funk. She didn't know where all this strength was coming from and her chest felt _so tight_ and she knew that something was wrong and that she should stop but she kept going and going and going until she passed the competitor's red faces and crossed the finish line, her own face pale as a ghost's. Exhausted, Libby closed her eyes and welcomed the sudden darkness as her body hit the cool grass.

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At first, House thought she was tired and was being dramatic. After all, that was an incredible feat she had just accomplished and she was tired a lot as of late. But then again, she was never dramatic and certainly not dramatic in front of people she didn't know.

The track, the benches for the runners, the bleachers, all were in a shocked silence. It had been ten seconds, a minute, a day, six years (six years since she was sick) since Libby fell. Mr. Ian ran over to her unmoving body and pulled out her wrist. "Someone call an ambulance!"

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House and Cuddy raced each other to the track. House crashed beside his daughter's still body and held her hand. His heart broke; he felt no pulse. Cuddy was shouting out medical terms to House, but he heard nothing except his own heart beating steadily inside his own chest. He put his hand on her face. She was burning up. House had never pinched himself before, never believed nothing in his life wasn't reality.

Now, as he watched the EMT's strap his little girl onto a gurney, he pinched his arm, hard.

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_Six hours later, New York_

Wilson flipped open his cell phone and noticed that he had three new messages.

"Hey Jim, it's Mike, I heard you were in town and I wanted to know if you wanted to catch lunch or something tomorrow. Ok, you know my number. Call me anytime." Wilson groaned. He _hated _Mike.

"Hi, Jimmy. It's me, Nina. Umm, Mike called…you remember Mike? Mike Peterson? Anyway, I wanted to know if you wanted to get together for dinner, or coffee, or something. Ok, call me. Buh-bye." Wilson smiled. Nina was quite…promiscuous and he didn't doubt her intentions. Oh well. He could certainly benefit from a visit with Nina.

The third caller didn't leave a name or number or friendly message, just a scared, scared voice, but it sent Wilson speeding down towards PPTH. "Wilson. Libby's sick."

_Author's Note…(Dodges rotten fruit.) Awww…sad. Ok, before you start with the moldy bananas, note that most small cell lung cancers come back within a year. Libby had six. It's realistic for her to relapse. And I'm not necessarily going to kill her. Remember what the title is here though…but hey. At least you got you've still got a Cuddy/House thing going on. I'm not going to give House much angst there…take that as you like. By the way…I'm not sure how I'm going to end the cancer storyline, but if she doesn't live, I'm pretty sure I know when she will die. Ok, review please!_


	18. Oh, Sugar Sugar

_Disclaimer…Do you really have to ask? Seriously, it can't be good for my self-esteem, repeatedly saying I own nothing. Can't I just say that I own everything in this one chapter? Just this once? No? Ok, fine, I don't own House. Big surprise there._

_Author's Note…Ok, what I did to you last chapter was mean. I don't think I'll do that again, and I changed it…a little. But don't worry…nothing that's necessarily fatal…and in this instance, it won't be. I'm really looking forward to finishing this chapter because I am finding myself unable to rest until it is complete. And a happy birthday to _**Flamesofthemo0n**_! Hey, I'm only two years younger than you!_

A disheveled Wilson paced the length of the Diagnostics Conference room. "Everything that she's done out of the ordinary for…the past two, three months. Last year. Little things."

House rolled his eyes. "I'm a _doctor, _and a _father of a former cancer patient,_ they don't get more paternally paranoid than me."

Libby chimed in. "That is _definitely _true." It was only Saturday morning, but she had since recovered, if a little (or so she said) weak. The entire oncology department knew her to downplay her ailments and it was very debatable whether that was due to nature or nurture. Now she was hanging out with the medical team, listening in on her diagnosis.

Foreman and Wilson stifled a laugh. Cuddy rolled her eyes. "So nothing House?"

"Well, she's been tired lately, crampy, but I thought that was puberty…" Libby quietly groaned in embarrassment. _Say it a little louder Dad, I don't think Cardiology heard you._

"What was that Libs?" House raised his eyebrows. Libby narrowed her own eyes. "I didn't say _anything._"

"But you were thinking something."

"I usually am."

"Ok then. Back to abnormalities…" Foreman and Chase exchanged glances. They had to admit, it was quite amusing, seeing House meet his match in the form of an eleven year old girl. "…Really bad stomach virus last week, maybe the flu with no fever or something, lost a couple pounds but I thought that was due to the virus…Libby, you got anything?"

Everyone looked towards her and out of habit, she blushed. "Ummm…not really."

Harrison frowned. "Have you been thirsty lately?"

She nodded quickly. "Yeah, but that's just because it's hot out and I'm usually running."

Harrison looked towards House. "Clinical signs of Type I Diabetes. It's a typical complication of a heart transplant."

Cuddy raised her eyebrows. It wasn't a bad diagnosis and could very well be the case although she hoped whatever was making Libby sick wasn't so chronic, but the guy had to learn to be _creative._ She knew House was bored to death with the doctor, what with his bland responses and total lack of life. She guessed that the only reason he didn't fire him was so he wouldn't have to deal with a new batch of interviewees. In her opinion, House could do just fine without other people's dramas.

House sighed. "Do a C-peptide test and a fasting blood glucose test. The test results should be back in a few hours, until then Libs, don't eat anything."

The team got up and left the room, leaving House and Libby alone. Libby sat upright in one chair, while House swiveled around using his cane as a lever on the other. Libby twisted her neck to see everyone leaving. "Aren't they supposed to be doing those tests on me?"

House looked up and let out a little laugh. "Yeah."

"Then where are they going?"

House tilted his head back and laughed harder. "I have no idea." He got up and started to walk down the hallway. He called out in front of him "hey Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle Dumber!"

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A few hours and two uncomfortable tests later, it was confirmed that Libby had Type 1 Diabetes Mellitus. She had already got her first insulin shot and House was trying to explain how to her how it would dictate the rest of her life.

"…And at sleepovers or something, you can just tell your friends you're shooting up!"

Libby raised her eyebrows. "Like drugs?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"_Ok…try and convince my friends I'm a druggie…shouldn't be too hard…I mean, they've met me…_and I won't be able to eat artificial sugars?"

"Right. But you're a health-food freak; it shouldn't be to hard an adjustment for you."

"And this is forever?"

"Yeah. Kinda sucks. But on the other side of the fence, you're better and you can go home."

Libby's eyes brightened. "Then can I go to the thing tonight?"

"You mean the thing at the place at the time?"

"Dad, the sixth grade dance! _Remember! _You were going to bring Aunt Lisa!"

"Oh, _that _thing. I don't know…you won't be able to eat much and you'll have to bring your own meal…"

"…The food will be disgusting anyway…"

"…Your little performance at the track meet yesterday might have everyone talking and I'm sure you won't want to deal with all the questions…"

"…Better I answer them now before people make up their own answers over the summer…"

"…If you get sick and it turns out you need to go to the hospital then we won't be able to get off the boat…"

"…The boat's not going to be even a mile from the shore and it has an engine if someone needs it _plus _they have an emergency kit…"

"…Your teacher said that everyone will dance…"

"…Everybody lies…"

House raised his eyebrows. "Niiiiice."

"So can I go?"

House rolled his head from side to side, trying to think of a last-ditch protest. "_Fine._"

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Cuddy was sifting through some paperwork when House stealthily crept up on her and scared her half to death.

He laughed. "So, still up for some major mosh-pitting?

Cuddy blinked, still recovering from her shock. "What?"

"Personally, I prefer to walk like an Egyptian, but that's just me."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, if you really wanted to, I'm sure I can squeeze in some belly-dancing. I have mad belly-dancing skills."

Cuddy still wasn't catching on. Her mouth hung agape. "How much Vicoden have you had today?"

"Actually, if I remember correctly from the college days, you seem to enjoy dancing on elevated grounds, particularly on bar-countertops, particularly not wearing a shirt, particularly…"

Cuddy slapped her hand over House's mouth. "I _thought _we agreed that little anecdote stays in Michigan," she hissed.

"Mmphophic phmamphing." Cuddy still didn't move her hand. House bit it.

"Hey!"

"Exotic dancing." Cuddy raised her eyebrows, clearly annoyed. "What? I had to finish my sentence. If biting you is the way to go, so be it!"

"_What _are you talking about?"

The mischief in House's eyes vanished. "Libby's dance thing. It's tonight. Still coming?"

Cuddy gave her head a little shake. This was by far the most bizarre conversation she had ever had. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Do you have something to wear?"

House shrugged. "I don't know."

_Of course he doesn't. _"Well, find something. _Not _jeans; a t-shirt and a blazer aren't going to cut it. At least wear some nice pants."

"Fine, _Mom._ Pick you up at 7:15."

"We have to be there by 7:25. You don't know where it is, we won't get there in time."

"I'm very good at directions. I'll figure it out."

"I'll be ready at ten to seven."

"Then you'll be ready twenty five minutes early." He limped off in triumph. Cuddy rolled her eyes in silent anticipation.

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_7:17_

Cuddy paced around her apartment and surveyed her outfit for the fiftieth time. She had no idea why she was so worried; it was a sixth grade dance, that's all. Right? 7:20. House was officially five minutes late. They would never make it.

Suddenly there was a noisy rap at the door. Cuddy ran over, threw the door open, grabbed her coat and stormed down the hall. It was actually a bit cruel, considering House couldn't keep up with her working legs.

It was a warm night, but the car was frigid. Cuddy refused to talk to House, House kept his eyes trained on the road, and Libby nervously twiddled her thumbs in the backseat. The longer the silent treatment lasted, the more annoyed House got. _I was just a few minutes late, so what? It's just a few minutes. We'll still make it. And why is she so passionate about this anyway? What's the point?_ They arrived at the dock just as the boat was about to leave. Libby immediately went down to the party room where she was mobbed by her friends, Cuddy went over to the buffet table and made small talk with the principal, and as for House, he leaned against the railing and let the sea winds caress his face. He tilted his head back and dry swallowed a Vicoden. _It's going to be a long night._

_Author's Note…Ok, Libby's safe. I'm relieved. And more House/Cuddy, yay! Next chapter is going to be the entire duration of the dance and the hours afterwards and I promise, it will be nothing like the last dance in this story. Chapter 19 will be very…defining and will probably be responsible for the rest of the story…I still don't know how it's going to end! Ok, please review! _


	19. Times of Change

_Disclaimer…Don't own House. _

_Author's Note…What? No reviews? Boo. Please review for this one._

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Cuddy was thoroughly annoyed herself. She would have slapped herself except she did not want to come off as mentally insane. Although that was probably a pretty accurate impression. _Why did you have to give him the silent treatment?_ _Are you incompetent or something? All he was was five minutes late and even so; being late isn't a reason to be so upset. Seriously I (you?) am the stupidest stupid that ever stupided. And now here you are, flirting with a faox bartender as revenge. Pathetic. Pitiful. Embarrassing. You should be above this. _

"So, what do you do?"

Cuddy looked at the bartender. _Is he seriously that oblivious? How can he not realize that he's a tool? _She sighed and stirred her soda (_need. alcohol._). "You know what? I don't really like you at all. I haven't paid attention to a bit of the conversation you've graciously held up for…" she glanced at her watch. "half an hour. We're _both _pathetic for that. And you know what? I'm tired of feeling pathetic. Please excuse me." The bartender blinked and debated whether or not to give her a glass of the wine he kept under the sink for particularly bad nights. He still wasn't exactly sure what was going on. Surely she hadn't _used _him?

Surely.

Cuddy gave a sad look to the crowded dance floor and strode outside onto one of three decks. She needed some time to herself. Cuddy breathed in the fresh air and closed her eyes. Suddenly, a mass was there, pressing up against her body, pinning her up against the stucco wall. And the peculiar thing about this mass was that it was kissing her, and was doing a very square job of it at that. Still not opening her eyes, Cuddy kissed the mass back.

And after several seconds of kissing the first mass that came a hithering, Cuddy opened her eyes to find that the mass was none other than Gregory House.

There had never really been a doubt in her mind.

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He nearly knocked her off the boat.

After the initial kiss, they had groped and fumbled their way to the railing. With each kiss, Cuddy dipped back against the railing, her body almost formed a perfect 90 degree angle. _All this bending backwards is bad for you Lisa. You'll fall into the ocean and drown and even if you don't, you back will kill you tomorrow morning. _But still, she bent and twisted and it was beautiful. In between passionate kisses, while she came up for air, she somehow managed to initiate a conversation.

"What…we're…doing…here…is…"

"Gonna…be…hard."

"This…is…gonna…be…stupid…everyone's…gonna…get…hurt…"

"I'll…be…fine…"

"Libby…too…"

"We…can…wait…out…on…telling…her…"

"Just…for…a…little…while…"

"Yeah."

They couldn't have stopped if they wanted to.

They didn't want to.

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Libby, exhausted from dancing for two hours straight, left her friends on the dance floor and headed back to their little table alone. She sat down, sipped a glass of water, and in the back of her mind wondered where her dad and Cuddy were this entire time. She had glimpsed them leaving the room earlier; she guessed they were trying to make the captain suicidal. Out of the corner of her blue eye, she spotted her father and Cuddy pressed up against the boat. _Finally. And ew._

"Hey."

Libby jumped in her seat and looked towards the voice's origin. It was a he, a very nice looking he Libby thought, with light green eyes and dark brown hair. Libby noticed she was staring. "Oh, hi! I'm Libby. Didn't see you there, I thought I was alone…" Libby bumbled.

The He smiled back. "I'm Josh."

"Oh. Hi, Josh."

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, each trying to figure out why the room had suddenly grown hotter. "Are you in sixth grade?"

Libby blinked. "Um, yeah. Well, not anymore I guess. What about you?"

"Tuesday's the last day of seventh grade for me. We're in the same district. My cousin goes to your school. My aunt dragged me here today."

"Oh."

"I was sick the day of my own…this thing and so my aunt thinks she's giving me an _experience_. I don't want to be here. Don't know anybody."

Libby stuck out her hand for Josh to shake. "Well now you know me. I'm Libby. House."

Josh smiled and took it. "Very nice to meet you, Libby House."

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Libby and Josh hit it off right away. They talked about everything from music ("_3, 6, 9/Damn you're fine…_is that a joke or something?"-Libby) to movies ("Deuce Bigalow: Italian Gigolo"? ...do they _hate _the general viewing audience or something? –Josh).

But all good things must come to an end and eventually Libby's friends came over and interrupted the little where-have-you-been-all-my-life-fest. It seemed they traveled in packs and Josh, sensing the potential danger of packs, walked off somewhere. Libby looked after him and vacantly smiled. Her girlfriends chimed up in a flurry of questions.

"Who was _he_?"

"Where's he going?"

"He's cute."

"What's up with that smile, Libs? You look like you're in _looove._"

The last comment earned a large amount of shrieks from the table. Libby's non-response only fueled the fire.

"Oh my gosh, she _is _in love!"

Libby rolled her eyes. "No I'm not. We just have a lot in common."

"Yeah, two hours worth of stuff in common!"

"How old is that guy anyway?"

"He's a year older than us."

"That means he's like, two years older than you."

Libby sighed. "He's in seventh grade."

"_Starting _it, or _finishing _it?"

"Finishing."

"So when you'll be in seventh grade next year…he'll be in eighth grade."

"You should be a detective."

"She's definitely in love. People in love are very snappy."

"_Shut up, _Katie."

"_Sorry._"

"What's his name?"

"Josh."

"He doesn't have a last name?"

"He's about to enter the Witness Protection Program, so no."

"Huh?"

"_Yes, _he has a last name."

"Oh. Do you like him?"

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Outside, House and Cuddy were still…getting acquainted. Cuddy looked at the sunset.

"It's starting to get dark."

"People do dirty things in the dark."

"Like your daughter?"

House's cane fell to the floor with a clatter. "What!"

"She's was talking to some boy for two hours."

"Well…talking isn't dirty."

"_Two hours! _What do you think they were talking about?"

"I…don't know. Wait a minute…were they as…_lingual _as we were?"

"No, but it looked like they were having a hard time _not _being lingual."

House gasped for air.

"He's going back over to her…"

"What's he doing?"

"I can't tell…she's sitting down, he's standing up…now they're both standing up…now they're walking away…"

"Not to the coatroom right?"

"Pft. Don't think so…ok, they stopped walking…and started dancing! Aww, they're slow dancing. He asked her to dance! How cute is that?"

While Cuddy oohed and awwed at them, House watched them with intensity. Cuddy had to physically restrain him when the boy pulled Libby ever-so-slightly-closer to him. It was like watching a scene from a movie. _A horror movie…if he does anything…suggestive (House's head nearly exploded at the thought) to her I swear I'll…_

Libby tilted her head back a bit, as if to let nature wipe her locks away from her face, then raised it back to normal level, so she was gazing into Josh's eyes.

Cuddy smiled. "_Where _did she get that much aplomb?

In the half second it took for Josh's hands to move from Libby's shoulders down to her lower-waist, House, paralyzed with shock and fear, realized that his little girl wasn't so little anymore.

It was going to be a very long summer.

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The passengers slowly dripped out of the boat. They were still under the influence of the calm of waves below their feet and none of them wanted to let go of that quickly. None more so than Cuddy. She stood at that the edge of that little synapse between the boat and the dock, her heart heavy with the knowledge that once she crossed it, everything would change.

House nudged her forward. She elbowed him in the stomach. "You nearly made me fall."

"There's a whole line of people behind me. They're all talking to me. It's an emergency. I had to take the risk."

_And we're back in reality. _Cuddy stepped onto the dock. Libby ran up to her and House (she had already exited with a friend of hers.) She gave him a hug. "Bye Dad, see you tomorrow!"

She turned to run off when House grabbed her by the shoulder, nearly knocking _her_ over. Libby groaned. "Yes Dad, I _have _the list you gave me of stuff I can and can't eat _and _I have the shots."

"But where are you going?"

"I'm sleeping over Kristy's house tonight. Remember, we arranged it weeks ago?"

House blinked as the remaining sunlight streamed into his eyes. Libby, realizing her father still wasn't catching on, nudged him, hard. _"Remember, _Dad? We knew that you would want to _have the apartment to yourself _because you would be annoyed by all the _people _you saw _tonight. Do you remember now?"_

House finally caught her gist and ruffled her hair. "Oh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me." He kissed her on top of her head and let her run off, still clutching onto the bag of needles full of life-saving insulin and anti-rejection pills for her heart and a blood-sugar tester.

He walked over to Cuddy, who was already waiting in the car, listening to the radio. House sat down in the drivers seat. "You know, Libby's sleeping at a friend's house tonight."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. So I guess I'll be all alone tonight. I'm not going to keep it that way."

Cuddy mock-batted her eyelashes as House drove. "I see. Why, are you asking me to spend the night?"

"Well, it's either you, the bartender that you liked, or Bambi."

"Bambi?"

"Yes, remember her? We saw her on a corner on the way here."

Cuddy smiled to herself. She did remember, they had nearly crashed into a tree because of House's rush to put his hand over Libby's eyes. She would have been hysterical laughing if she wasn't at the time so mad at him. "But why the bartender?"

"I really don't know. I mean, he's certainly not the brightest _tool _in the shed."

Cuddy pretended to gasp. "He's not a _tool_!"

"Yeah, sure he wasn't. Keep telling that to yourself. I hear doing that is very good for you."

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_11:00 the next morning_

Libby stepped gingerly into the empty apartment. She was surprised; she had figured that House would at least wait for her to get home before rushing off to tell Wilson about last night. _Oh well._

Libby noticed the door to her father's room was open and the bed was very unmade. As per usual, she walked in to make the bed like she did whenever she noticed it…was unmade. In her mind, the little things she did for House…making the bed, doing the laundry, feeding at least herself in the morning (if not making breakfast for him as well) made up for not having her mom around for him.

So, without paying much attention to the familiar surroundings, Libby strolled in.

Only to find House and Cuddy entangled with each other, both naked but asleep, the sheet being the only thing to (barely) cover up their bodies.

Libby screamed. House and Cuddy snapped up, Cuddy barely holding up the sheet. Libby ran from the room in horror. House threw on a pair of boxers and flannel pants and hurried down the hallway to the bathroom and stood outside, only to hear the shower.

"Come on, Libby. Come out. We…we have to talk."

"I'm in the shower!"

"No you're not. Just come out."

"Yes I am! And I don't want to see anything that should be reserved for Health Class!"

Cuddy snickered as she pulled up another of flannels and threw one of House's Rolling Stone tees. House shot her a "don't mess" look but, figuring that Libby wasn't coming out anytime soon, walked back into the bedroom and put on a similar shirt. Cuddy pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "To be fair, that had to have been pretty mortifying for her."

"True that."

"Seriously, that's scarred for life material."

"I know. But with me as her father…actually, that's still pretty bad."

Cuddy smiled. "What time is it?"

House's eyes widened. "11:15."

Cuddy murmured a curse.

"Well, at least you're not crying."

"I was supposed to meet my parents at 11:00."

"You stood up your parents to have sex with _me_! I _am _a god."

"This isn't funny."

"No, it's hysterical. Actually, it's probably a good thing that you won't be here when Libby gets out. Whenever that may be."

"Yeah. I'll have to talk to her or something…anyway, bye for now." She gave House a quick peck on the sheet before hurrying off, nearly crashing into a completely dry Libby.

House surveyed his daughter with interest. "I hope you didn't waste any water."

Libby smiled. "Good to know I'll never run out of things to talk about with my therapist."

House smiled too. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for leaving me the apartment. You know, you're wise beyond your years."

"Well, at least I'm still innocent to…oh wait, nope! Not anymore!

House snickered and began to make some sugar-free cereal. "It hasn't been the best couple of days for you, has it?"

"Well, it's had _some _benefits."

House started to pour some milk. "Like?"

Libby blushed.

"It's that boy from last night, isn't it? Before you say anything, let me just tell you…"

"Dad, you can stop pouring now." She gestured towards the bowl, which was overflowing with milk.

"Oh. Well then, you can _tell _how much this disturbs me."

"This?"

House stuttered. The whole topic of Libby and boys unnerved him. "That boys are starting to…like you. Like-like you. I'm not ready for that yet, and neither are you. I know what's best for you and…it's…not best for you yet. Deal?"

"Dad, that's not a deal." Libby walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out a heavy text. She thumbed through the pages.

House continued talking. "And to start with _that _boy-he was a year older than you!"

"First of all: So what? You were at least seventeen years older than Mom. Second of all: Deal- to take action with respect to someone or something."

House's jaw dropped. "Ok, no way are you _ever _having the kind of relationship with _anybody, _especially this boy, that I had with your Mom. At least not until you're thirty-five, have a very successful career, and I'm cold six feet under."

"That's still not a deal."

"Fine. Wilson has to like him."

"Dad…"

"And he has to give you away…"

Libby rolled her eyes. "Do you need me to repeat the definition again?"

"No. I'm pulling the Dad Card. Works every time."

Libby gave him a half-smile. She walked over to him and hugged him, but House kept his arms dangling loosely at his side. "Dad?"

"It's just…it's nice to hear you talk about Mom. Even just for a little."

House closed his eyes, sighed, and hugged her back.

No matter what he did, and to whom, it was always going to be a long haul.


	20. Holiday

_Disclaimer…I don't own anything._

_Author's Note…This chapter is my little holiday gift to everyone! I hope you enjoy it and HINT HINT reviews make excellent thank-you notes! I don't know when I'll be updating because I will be in sunny Atlantis this week yay! so I hope this will keep you happy. By the way, good news…I figured out how I'm going to end the story! And how I'm going to write it! It's not for a while though…a few years…but it totally includes an epilogue! Sweeeeet…_

**Prinnie**_…thank you so much for pimping out my story! That made me so excited and thank you thank you thank you! _

**Flamesofthemo0n**_…Awww…I thought you would like that chapter! Glad you enjoyed it and hope you like this one as well!_

**TNIIT**_…Awww…I'm so glad I found out I found someone who shares my corny level of loving the "my father's joy" thing! And thank you SO much for that compliment…your whole review made my day._

**Kat**_…This chapter should answer your question…and I plan on continuing this story for a while but I've got an endpoint in sight (but if anybody starts to get tired of it PLEASE let me know!) which I guess is good news. And I'm thrilled that you are so wrapped up in it…squee!_

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_Six Months Later (i.e. Late November)_

Cuddy barged into the Diagnostics Lounge at 10:30 one lonesome night and sighed. Apparently, dating someone does not make them bend to your every will, professional or personal. Especially if that someone was Greg House. Especially if that something was anything that had to do with working.

Turns out her barging was in vain anyway. The room was empty; the lights were off. Nothing was stirring (_not even a mouse_). Except for a small, muffled sound of quiet breathing. Inwardly, Cuddy panicked, though she did not know why. Who or what would break in, and why? Cuddy shook her head; her worry made no sense. She scolded herself and cautiously walked towards the origin of the sound.

It was Libby. House, knowing he would be working late that night, had insisted that she come to the hospital after school rather than be home alone for so long at a time. It looked like she had fallen asleep while doing the endless mounds of homework she had been assigned. Actually, it wasn't that there was such a heavy load (although Cuddy physically could not lift up the tote bag Libby carried around) but that Libby was on the school track team and they had practice that lasted until 5:00 every day leaving very little time for homework. But still, Libby's grades were excellent and the only thing Cuddy and House (and Wilson) worried about was whether her body would be able to handle all the pressure she put on it. Oftentimes, House would find himself walking into Libby's room at night while she was sleeping just to check her pulse. Usually he woke her up and was greeted with shrieks.

Cuddy walked over to the hooks where the lab coats were hung and not for the first time, relished in the fact that House was different and distinguishable and always had her on her tip-toes. She took the lab coat marked "Gregory House, MD" and bring the harsh material to her face, letting the stray white strands scratch her skin. She breathed in its non-scent…it hadn't been worn enough to become weathered enough to be soft or have a familiar fragrance. She gingerly placed the coat over Libby's body, a makeshift blanket. Cuddy brushed a stray curl off Libby's face and started to retreat towards the door.

But, like all her plans, it was totally interrupted when House entered the picture. "Hey."

Cuddy screamed in surprise, thereby waking up Libby. "Whatsugoingon?"

Cuddy glanced at Libby in apology then at House in embarrassment. "Sorry Libs. It was your dad's fault."

"True that. Everything's my fault."

Libby sat up and rubbed her eyes. She examined her textbook pillow and groaned. She leaned over the couch and pulled out a notebook and began writing stuff in it. House raised his eyebrows. "You're not done with your homework yet?"

"I have an essay."

"Due tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

House looked at his watch. "It's 10:30. I'm cutting you off at 10:49."

"11:30."

"No way."

"Way."

"You've got school tomorrow. 11:30 is too late."

"Too late for the sake of my education?"

_"Oh, my heartstrings. Please, stop with the tugging. I don't know if I can take much more of this."_

Cuddy smirked. "He's right. You've been working _way _too late recently. You need a break."

"It's November. Thanksgiving's soon. I get a vacation."

"That's at the end of the week, right?"

"Yeah Dad, way to forget when Thanksgiving is. It's always so hard to remember."

House rolled his eyes. "Anyway, we're going home in a couple minutes. I'll meet you outside, ok?"

Now Libby rolled her eyes. "Dad, if you want to come up with an excuse to have Cuddy spend the night, just say so. I take Health. Even without it, Wilson's kept me out of the dark with that particular subject for a while now. So you can relax."

House gaped. "For your information, I was much happier being in the dark about you being out of the dark so for further reference, make my future a _very _dark place."

Libby snickered as she picked up the huge mass of books and left the room, content to sit outside while waiting for her father.

Cuddy looked at Libby's small form in amazement. _That girl is something else. _She turned to House and smiled as seductively as one can after being awake for eighteen hours. "So, do you _really _want me to come over tonight?"

"I certainly wouldn't mind the activities we would engage in, but that's not what I was talking about."

Cuddy frowned. "Oh."

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving this year?"

"The family's coming over."

"Family?"

"Lots of 'em. My parents, four aunts, five uncles, two grandparents, eleven cousins, two nephews, one niece. Let's see, that's…27 people."

"Think there's room for two more?"

"Depends…" Cuddy said, still not catching on. "Who would they be?"

"Me and Libby!" House replied in a _duh _voice.

"Oh! I thought you spent Thanksgiving with Wilson…and you would have to meet my parents…"

"Yeah, about that. Wilson's going over to his new girlfriend's house in…some other state."

"Which one?"

"I don't know, I wasn't paying attention long enough to hear…but I thought that Libby could maybe benefit from a normal, loud, obnoxious, headache-inducing, good ole American Thanksgiving."

"I agree with you 100. But it would still lead to you meeting my parents…"

"We don't have to tell them I'm your boyfriend."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Oh really?"

"For the night I can be some random homeless person you took in."

"And who would Libby be?"

"A child in the foster system that you adopted for the holidays."

"I bet the people at the Humanitarian Awards will _love _this new development."

"That was my plan all along."

"But seriously? Are you coming? Because if you are…I don't even want to think about it."

"Well, start thinking then, because we're coming. By the way, will there be alcohol?"

"My Uncle Jack will be there. He's a recovering alcoholic."

"So yes. And _score_, I get to screw up his recovery!" House finished gathering his stuff and walked out, leaving Cuddy fighting the uncontrollable urge to bang her head hard against the wall.

_Bang._

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_Thanksgiving Morning_

House slapped his hand down on his alarm clock and rubbed his eyes. _5:15. _This was the time he normally got up for work, but he was off today. _Must have forgotten to unset it. _He looked around and saw that there was a light coming in from under the door. And there were lots of sounds coming from the kitchen. House groaned, rolled over, and got out of bed.

Gingerly stepping into the kitchen, he saw (what he considered) a most curious sight. There was Libby, still in her pajamas, stirring something, amidst a whole load of ingredients that House didn't even know existed, much less in his apartment. House rubbed his eyes again. _Libby's cooking…at frickin 5:15 in the morning. Damn her and her sometimes-domestic ways. _"Have you staged a campaign against sleep?"

Libby looked up. "Good morning to you too."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm having a rendezvous with those incredibly scandalous boys from Nantucket."

"Woah! Did not need to hear that. Do you realize what time it is?"

"Nope. All I know is that I heard a rooster at dawn and I decided something needed cookin'."

"Very funny. Are you making something for Aunt Lisa's Thanksgiving…thing?"

"You got it, Sherlock."

"Why?"

"Bringing food to someone's house for Thanksgiving is the right thing to do. Especially if you invited us last minute."

"We never brought food to Wilson's."

"We brought the lo mein."

_"Riiiight."_

"Yeah."

"So what are we bringing now? I.e. what are you making?"

"It's called 'Death by Chocolate.'"

"Sounds lethal."

"It totally is. It's layers of brownie, coconut, chocolate pudding, nuts, more brownie, more chocolate pudding, and finally some whipped cream."

"Note that it won't satisfy anyone unless it's got a cherry on top."

"Darn. I knew I forgot something."

"It's a shame you're going through all this trouble for something _you won't even be able to eat_."

Libby shrugged. "I don't like chocolate anyway. And I'm sure they'll have a fruit platter."

"It's Aunt Lisa. You can count on it." House dipped his finger in what he now reasoned was the brownie mix and tasted it. It was and my, was it good. Libby playfully swatted it away and House gave her a mock-innocent look. "So, were you planning on eating breakfast?"

"I figured we could have Chinese."

"Awesome." House yawned. "I'm going back to bed."

"Whatever. Hey, do you know of a Chinese place that's open at like, 8:30 in the morning?"

"Nope."

"We'll have to find one then."

House rolled his eyes. "I'm sure we will. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Yeah."

House went back into bed but found he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned but nothing came. Finally, he switched on the TV to find Donald Trump walking around the set-up of the Macy's Day Parade. _My eyes! My eyes! _

Little did he know it would be one of the prettier sights of the day.

_Author's Note…Ok, first of all, I had to stop writing in the middle of this chapter because I went to Atlantis and didn't bring my computer. Second of all, next chapter will be_ _Cuddy's Thanksgiving Dinner. Third of all, after that, I'm going to do some time-jumping. Ok. A lot of time-jumping. Fourth of all, sorry I didn't include Josh in this chapter…I think he will be around later, though. Fifth of all, please review! Thank you and once again, Happy Holidays!_


	21. Roses

_Disclaimer…I don't own House._

_Author's Note…Reviewers are pretty. Happy Holidays!_

_ More Oh, and Libby would be about 12 here…she's in 7th grade._

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"Abandon faith, all ye who enter."

Libby rolled her eyes. "Dad, just ring the doorbell."

"No, you ring the doorbell."

"My hands are full." She was right, she was carrying the cake she had spent all morning making.

"I'm crippled. What! I thought we were having a tragedy contest!" House shrugged. Even if they were, Libby would win.

"Yes, holding a cake is _such _a tragedy. Come on, Dad. We've been here half an hour. Seriously, I bet your future in-laws think you're a stalker or something."

"But then they'll meet me and find that I'm just a beautiful ray of sunshine. And who said anything about in-laws?"

"Never mind."

"You, on the other hand…you'll be a _big _disappointment. What with bringing dessert, stirring up Aunt Lisa's maternal roots…if you decided to leave, it might be for the best."

So well she knew her father, Libby didn't even bat an eyelash. "Dad, we are _so _late."

"I hope I'm not pregnant."

_"Ring. The. Doorbell."_

"Fine, fine, no need to get pushy. Just so you know, as soon as you walk in there, you'll be swarmed by crazy relatives. No escape. Just-"

"Dad!"

House pressed his thumb into the dim yellow button and winced as it chimed out _The Dance of the Butterflies. _"Manly ring, huh?"

"Pass me a beer and a Manwhich, please."

"Pass the gas."

Just then, a large, burly man _whooshed _open the door. "Hello, ya'll!"

He spoke with a Southern accent. House grimaced.

"Won't you come in?"

Libby stepped aside, letting House go in first. "Oh, very nice. Listen, holding the door to the antechamber of Hell _will not _get you to Heaven. Just so you know."

"Oh, I know."

"Good. Oh wait, I think I left something in the car…"

"Greg!"

House turned to see Cuddy making her way toward him. "I see you've met my father. Dad, this is my…friend, Greg. And this is his daughter, Libby."

Cuddy's father extended a hand toward both of them. House noticed Libby was cowering behind him, obviously intimidated. It looked like all 27 people were congregating in the living room.

"Just remember _you _invited _yourself _here" Cuddy hissed as she took their coats.

"The holidays are really softening that harsh edge there, Leese."

"Watch it. I spent all day yesterday and all morning cooking."

"Speaking of which…" House thrust forward Libby's cake. "We come in peace."

Cuddy examined the dessert as if she were a detective or a cop. Or a doctor. "Where did you buy this?"

"Some random homeless guy. He said he made it with some special ingredient. I hope it's toenails."

Cuddy rolled her eyes so hard her head swerved a bit. "Libby, did you make this?"

"Umm, yeah. But you don't have to serve it if you don't want to; it's just to be polite. You can throw it out, right now if even. Here, I'll do it…" Libby reached out to grab the dessert but Cuddy moved it closer toward her own body.

"No, it looks delicious. But you can't eat this."

"Yeah, but I don't even…" She was interrupted by Cuddy's mother, who had bounded her way over at the sight of chocolate.

"Well, ain't that the most delicious looking thang?"

Cuddy turned toward her mom and started up a conversation with her, giving House the perfect opportunity to make a quick getaway. _To leave or not to leave? _He looked at Libby, so unsure of herself but looking very eager to please.

_To stay._

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Two hours later, Libby found herself wedged between Cuddy's overweight father and even more overweight uncle at dinner. While Libby ate only a salad and a small piece of turkey, the two had loaded their plates high with all the food Cuddy had prepared. Not only that, but they were _constantly _taking food off Libby's own plate, which annoyed her to no end.

"So, Miss Priss, how old are you?"

_Miss Priss? _"I'm twelve."

"You're a little thing, aren't you?"

_He's calling me short? Argh. Darn non-height genes. _"I guess so."

"Cute! You got a boyfriend?"

_How could Aunt Lisa be this guy's daughter? _"Umm, yeah."

"Sweet thing! What's his name?"

_Please let this conversation end soon. _"Josh."

"That boy get you anything for your birthday?"

_An earthquake would be a nice ending. _"Umm, yeah. He got me this." Libby produced the necklace she had been wearing every day straight for a month now. It was a modest thing; just a simple black chord as a chain with a small red rose stencil. But she loved it and thankfully, House or Wilson had never noticed the girly accessory. Libby knew Cuddy had but she had never asked. Truthfully, Libby liked it that way. The relationship between Libby and Josh was sweet and private, and Libby didn't think she would be able to gush over it out loud, the way Cuddy would want to hear.

"Well, isn't that beautiful?"

"Yes, it is."

"I bet your father's just beating him off with that cane of his, you're such a pretty girl."

Libby blushed. She had turned out quite beautiful, what with her father's eyes, her mother's peaches and cream skin, and these famous left-field recessive strawberry-blonde banana curls that Libby wore long, down to her waist. "Thank you."

"I'm sure he gets a lot of help from your mama. I didn't see her tonight; where is she?"

_You have _got_ to be joking me. _"She's not here."

"Well, where is she then?"

_Take. A. Hint. _"She died when I was a baby."

"Oh, I'm sorry dearie. That must have been real tough on you."

_Stop talking about it! _"I was very young, so it doesn't seem abnormal to me."

"Aww! You're precious! And you talk so smart!"

Libby forced a smile and excuse herself to go to the bathroom. On her way, she passed House, who seemed to be faring no better, stuffed in between Cuddy and her mother. Libby gave him a small smile which meant _for Christmas, we are so celebrating with Wilson._

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At 11:00 that night, House and Libby drove home in silence. Libby, much to House's chagrin, was a morning person and could barely stay awake past 10:30 and was train-sleeping. House was very wrapped up in his own thoughts, particularly the one that Cuddy's father had made to him about a certain flower. House couldn't help himself. He turned his gaze from the road and checked Libby's neck. Sure enough; there it was, in all its simplicity.

He knew that Libby had a boyfriend…he wasn't stupid. She was a beautiful girl, it was bound to happen. He had just hoped that she went from one to the other quickly, before anything got serious. But he recognized that name and it freaked him out to no end that Libby had apparently had one, the same one, for…_5 ½ months. _And it must be serious too, because that necklace was exactly in Libby's taste.

As he pulled up to his apartment, he realized that it wasn't the ornament that had him worried. No, it was the fact that he would have chosen something very much like that for Cameron.

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_Author's Note…Awww! Libby's got a good guy there. And hee! to Cuddy's crazy relatives. That's probably the last we'll be seeing of them. Sorry that was such a short chapter…anyways, I've got the next one all planned out…it's going to be quite long, I think. After that, major time jumping. Dun dun dun! Ok, please review and Happy New Years!_


	22. Deliver To: Heaven

_Disclaimer…I don't own anything._

_Author's Note…Just to clarify some things…Cuddy unofficially lives with House and during this chapter he is just…not there. Away, I guess. Yeah, not so chatty today…please review!_

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_Two years later (and some odd months)… (Libby is 14)_

In her entire life, there were just a few incidents when Lisa Cuddy had been completely speechless. The first time was her fifth grade class president election, when she had to debate her opponent. The second time was when she got into Michigan University. The third time was after she interviewed House for a job.

And the fourth time was now, as she held a positive pregnancy test in her hand.

"Congratulations."

Cuddy's head snapped up as if she had been caught doing some horrible act to see Libby in the doorway, smiling. Cuddy returned it weakly. "Thanks."

The two girls stood looking at each other, silently, for five long minutes. As if triggered by some inner-timer, the duo simultaneously started screaming and jumping up and down. It was at that moment, Cuddy realized, that Libby stopped being just her (always non-biological) daughter.

She was also her best friend.

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"What are you gonna name it?"

"I don't know…I don't even know whether it's a girl or a boy…!" Both girls squealed.

"Well, what are your favorite names so far? Come on, I _know_ you thought about it!"

Cuddy blushed. "Yeah, yeah. Ok, for a girl: Shauna. Or Louise, after my mom. Maybe Dana. Or Olivia! Olivia Louise…" Cuddy tried it out, experimented with the sound. She liked it.

"And if it's a boy…?"

"If it's a boy…oh my gosh I can't believe I'm even _thinking_ about this…I haven't even told your father…oh, I could name it Gregory, after him…"

"That would make a good middle name, because what would you call it then? GJ?"

Cuddy considered this for a minute. "Yeah, you're right. Umm…Zachary? Justin? Brandon? Logan? Cooper?"

"Logan Cooper is beautiful, but Dad would never go for it."

"True. Well, what have you got?"

"Tyler Gregory, if you still want to do the middle name thing. You could call him Ty."

Cuddy's heart melted. She _loved _that name. She _loved _that Libby hadn't questioned anything, just let her revel in the news. House would be coming home in a week, and for now, everything seemed perfect.

She still hadn't learned that when everything seems perfect, things are most opportune to go wrong.

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The red stain in her underwear came two days later. She hadn't miscarried, just been wrong. Incredibly wrong.

So she had changed her clothes and went about her business. The idea of breaking the news to Libby split her heart in two. So, for now, she just wouldn't. Cuddy justified this; _deal with your own loss first, you can be selfish for a little bit, you won't be any worse for it._

Turns out she didn't have to, anyway. That night, while Libby was collecting the laundry, she saw it for herself. Cuddy hadn't missed the look on her face when she ran out of the room. And she didn't miss the poignant look on her face when she came back with a shoebox full of papers. Libby sat herself next to a weepy Cuddy on the bed and placed the box in her lap. "I started writing these when I was four. Actually, Wilson wrote the first one for me, because I didn't know _how _to write, but whatever. These are…you can't _ever _show these to _anyone, _especially not my dad.No one besides me has ever seen these, and I want you to be the only person that will. You don't have to read it now; just…I thought it was an appropriate time to give it to you."

Cuddy cautiously opened the box and found what must have been 9 separate letters, although it was certainly longer than 9 pages. They were all handwritten, and the one on top was, as Libby said, in Wilson's handwriting. It looked as though Libby had organized it in age order, oldest on the top, most recent on the bottom. The paper was thin, as if it had been worried many times between someone's fingers. Cuddy noticed who they were addressed to. It made her cry:

_Mommy_

_Deliver to: Heaven _

Taking a deep breath, Cuddy started reading the first one, the one Wilson had interpreted:

_Dear Mommy,_

_Having cancer stinks. I want it to go away._

_I miss you._

_Abigail Kayla House_

She would read all of them, Cuddy decided. This one had been written by Libby herself.

_Dear Mommy,_

_Uncl Jimy says your in Heavn. I want to go to Heavn, to meat you. Uncl Jimy says I might, cause of the cancer. He says he hopes I dont go for a long, long, time. _

_I think that maybee if I can stand not going if I can meat you some othre way. Or at leste hear some storys about you. Dad says NOTHING he wont even say your name. Aunt Lisa told me it was Allison. Thats a pretty name. But relly, I want to know what you were like. _

_Aunt Lisa says you would be prowwd of me. I don't no you, but Im prowwd of you, to. _

_I miss you._

_Abigail Kayla House_

This one looked like it was written in second grade.

_Dear Mommy,_

_First, I want to say sorry for the really bad speling in the last letter. (It won't be perfect in this one either.)_

_Second, I want to say I'm not mad at you. The school psychologist (or psicolojist) said I am. She said this when in class, we were making cards for Mothers Day. I was just going to right my letter to you, like I do every year, but I got in trouble for not making a butterfly like everyone else. When Mrs. Robinson The Reading Teacher asked me why, I told her it was because I didnt know if butterflys could fly all the way to Heaven. I wanted to make sure. So she made me go to the psychologist (or psicolojist) and now for some reeson, she thinks Im mad at you for dying. But its not your fault! It wouldn't have been my fault if I died with the cancer, but whatever. She doesnt know what she is talking about._

_Third of all, even thogh I'm supposed to be mad at you, I still love you. So does Dad. He still hasnt said anything, but I just know._

_I miss you._

_Abigail Kayla House_

Cuddy looked over at Libby. They were both crying. Cuddy decided she would read the rest in private, and she skipped to the last one. In the back of her mind, Cuddy dimly realized that it was written three months ago, as a ninth-grader. On Mother's Day,

_Dear Mommy,_

_Yeah, I know I'm kind of a loser for still calling you Mommy but whatever. (Wow, I say that a lot!)_

_So anyway, after surviving childhood cancer, a heart transplant, diabetes, and living with Dad, I am here to tell you about the absolute worst day in my entire life. _

_I don't know how to really start this so…I got it at Josh's house. We were just hanging out when suddenly I felt a…drip. So I ran to the bathroom and there it was. Just sitting there, in my underwear, like some sign of a bodily transgression. I was horrified…I only learned about it in Health Class, no one told me about it. Not Dad. Not Aunt Lisa. Actually, I wasn't so mad at Dad, because if he had brought it up, we probably would have both just been embarrassed, but I was furious at Aunt Lisa. I don't know why; I guess I had just…I don't know. So anyway, as soon as I realized what had happened, I told Josh that I had to go home. He asked why. I told him I didn't feel good. He said I felt fine a few minutes ago. I said I didn't feel fine anymore. He asked what was wrong, and to tell the truth. I blushed and just couldn't look him in the eye, but he figured it out. Then, proving that he is in fact my one and only, he hugged me and told me it was ok, and all this sympathetic stuff. I love that guy. I just know…but I'll save this topic for later! _

_So then he gave me some toilet paper to…I don't know, hold me over or something while I walked home. He offered to go to the store with me but I was just so embarrassed, I couldn't. So I go home. Dad's there, and as soon as I see him, I burst out into tears. Darn hormones. And then he asked what was wrong. I just cried harder. Then, during a temporary stroke of genius, I asked where Aunt Lisa was. He said she was at work which made me cry even harder and then…well, that was all he needed to figure out what happened. So then he told me to go to the bathroom while he got some…supplies…and I just waited. Finally, after the single longest fifteen minutes of my life, he came home. I'm gonna spare you all the horrifying details and end my embarrassing tale with the embarrassing conclusion: Dad ended up reading the directions on a box of tampons while I sat on the lip of the bathtub, with the shower curtain very closed._

_Yeah, so I definitely could have used you that day (it was three months ago). I love Aunt Lisa, but…she's not you. And it's stupid, but I just know in my heart that if you were alive, you would have been there. You would have known. Mother's intuition or something._

_That sounds incredibly selfish. I am so grateful for what I have, but I miss what I don't. _

_I don't want to end this year's letter like this. I'll tell you something nice…ummm…oh, dear, this is awkward. Ha ha, just kidding. Ok, how about this: Josh told me he loved me. It was about a month after the "incident" I mentioned above that I never want to talk about again (except to maybe my daughter, one day.) I thought it was so romantic. It was a Sunday and somehow, we managed to convince Dad that we could go to the public beach. ("What could we do there on the public Jersey Shore?") It probably also helped that Dad forgot that Josh is legally allowed to drive. I guess he thought that his parents would be driving us. Oh well! So anyway, on the way there, it started raining. It was just a little drizzle but enough to keep the crowds away. We decided to wait for things to clear up so we stopped at this little place for lunch. It was called The Fork and The Spoon. I remember exactly what we had: I ordered a fruit salad and he ordered a hamburger. I know; try not to swoon. Anyway, turns out the serving portions there are huge, so we shared. It was just like that scene in The Lady and The Tramp where they're eating the spaghetti and they're each eating the same strand and their noses meet…except this was much neater. And not so corny. But you know me; I love corny! Ok, so after that we go to the beach which is like, totally deserted. It's too cold to go swimming…I hadn't even brought my bathing suit so I don't even want to know what Dad thought we were doing but whatever (there it is again!). We took off our shoes and just walked down the shore together, kinda fooling around, you know, he would pick me up and pretend to throw me in the water, I would fake-push in the ocean…and anyway, all the sudden he grabbed me and picked me up (it used to annoy me but not after that day) and I thought he was going to mock-toss me again but he hugged me and…that's when he told me he loved me. _

_I started crying, I was so happy. Seriously, I never even knew a person could achieve such a…state of ecstasy. It was euphoric. Apparently you don't need drugs to get like that. I can't even describe it. _

_At first, I just kept saying thank you…I guess I was too elated and shocked to get anything else out. He started to stay something, (after, he told me it was that I didn't need to stay anything…oh well!) but then I blurted out that I loved him too. _

_I always pictured that when I said it, it would sound like something out of a song or something but this…this was absolutely perfect. I wouldn't have it any other way._

_So yeah, I'm growing up. Don't think that I'm too young for this because, well…when you know, you know. I know. _

_Until next year...I love you…and haha, try and imagine what Dad would say if he knew about this. Oh man, I've had nightmares._

_I miss you._

_Abigail Kayla House_

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Cuddy put the letter down. "Oh my gosh, Libby!" She eclipsed the girl in a hug. "I…I had no idea you and Josh were this serious! And the other thing…that…I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, I mean…"

Libby smiled. "No, no it's fine. Now that it's…now that I've had time to think about it, it was probably better that way."

Cuddy shook her head. "I mean…oh my gosh! You guys love each other!"

Libby gave a little squee. "I know!"

"And you've kept it a secret for so long, I mean…wow! I wouldn't have been able to."

"Aunt Lisa, I would have told you but I know you would have wanted to tell Dad and…he would probably make me stop seeing him. I'm sure if I told you and asked you, you wouldn't have said anything but…I didn't want to…this isn't a good word for it but _burden_ you with something like that because you guys tell each other a lot. I don't want to be the thing to stop that."

Cuddy nodded because truth be told, Libby was right. House would have made Libby end the relationship and because she was Libby, she would have ended it and it would have broken her heart. And if she had told Cuddy, she would have loved hearing the information but she would be burdened by it.

But she wouldn't be now. Hearing about it now, in this way, was just right.

And suddenly, Libby's 5:1 figure seemed that much taller. For a moment, Cuddy was thankful that she didn't have to go through another baby growing up before her eyes. She didn't know how much more she could take.

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_Author's Note…I wrote that all in one sitting! Man, it's kinda tiring. But awww, how sweet are they? So anyhoo…I think next chapter I'm going to fast-forward to Libby's senior year in High School…write about acceptance letters and graduation and whatnot…it might take me a while to get up, though. Oh well, I never wait too long! Please review!_


	23. Dear Ms House

_Disclaimer…I don't own anything._

_Author's Note…I apologize for the delay in updates (in all my stories) but my internet has been down which is kinda stinky. So anyways, here's the latest chapter; enjoy and review please! Oh, and sorry if I screwed up the chronological order of events in real life…oh well. It's not that big a deal. Also…as of the year 2005, there highest possible SAT score is a 2400._

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_3 Years Later…Libby's Senior Year in High School_

Libby stared at the thin, white envelope in her hand. It was open, but she hadn't read the letter it was containing. _Fast and painless, be damned. _She narrowed her eyes. "You're ugly."

"I bet you smell."

"You probably don't have any friends."

"People who smell never have friends."

"Especially if they're as ugly as you."

"And I bet you pick your nose."

This was the state House and Wilson found her in at 10:30 one evening. House crept up behind her quietly behind her and whispered, pretending to be the envelope. _"And I bet you're crazy. Only crazy people talk to inanimate objects, like envelopes. Snappage."_

Libby jumped a mile in the air. "What the heck, Dad?"  
"It wasn't me! It was that slutty, ugly, nose-picking, loner-of-an-envelope that did it! Don't blame the innocent!"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. Also, good call on the slutty. I heard it even came on to the mailman _and _it made impure jokes to the bills."

"The bills! They're still virgins!"

"Oh really? I didn't know; good thing you told me or it could have led to some very awkward conversations."

"Don't even make a hint that you will make a hint about not…being…a…"

Wilson sighed. He suspected that Libby did this on purpose…it was the only topic that made House this uncomfortable and even he had to admit; it was quite amusing. "What's in the envelope? Your Planned Parenthood test results?"

"Oh, don't even bring that up again." Wilson laughed, reminiscing of the time Libby had prank called House, claiming to be a worker from Planned Parenthood, asking for Libby so she could give her "the test results."

Libby held the envelope away from herself, as if it was a time-bomb. Which was a pretty good assessment. "My SAT scores."

"Cool. Let me see." House reached out to grab it, but Libby moved her hand too fast for him.

"What the heck?"

"It's private."

"She's right."

"I'm her father. I have to have _some _privileges."

"It's her news to share."

"It's my news to hear."

"That makes no sense."

"You're not a father. You don't understand privileges."

"I understand them just fine."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do not"

"Do to."

Meanwhile, Libby was carefully reading the letter. Her jaw dropped and her smile widened.

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"2340."

Both men looked at her. "What?"

"That was my score. 2300."

"And that's out of…that's out of 2400, right?"

Libby nodded slowly, as if she was still digesting the news. "Yeah. 2400. 2300."

Wilson gaped. "That's like getting a…a…"

"95 or 96." Libby answered for him, courtesy of an automatic calculator in her head. It just kept sending off more and more alarm signals.

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_A Few Months Later…_

Wilson rushed into House and Cuddy's apartment and slammed the door. He dropped his suitcase, threw his jacket on the floor, _walked away from it (_he would pay for that later), and tossed his empty coffee cup into the sink. Hastily rubbing his shoes into the welcome mat shaped like an…Eskimo, Wilson nearly fell flat on his face in his rush.

"Libby?"

No answer.

"Libby!"

Nothing.

"LIBBY!"

Finally, Libby emerged from her room in a loose fitting t-shirt and tight-fitting denim capris that were once jeans. There was paint smeared all over her outfit and face, and Libby's hair, which normally hung in a sweet half-up/half-down style, was in a messy ponytail. This was her painting outfit, which she wore quite often throughout her high school years as she got more and more involved in her art. But she had been wearing it even more frequently as she was working on her final piece of her application for the Pratt School of Design. Everyone was _dying_ to see what it was, but Libby refused them over and over again, telling them they would see when it's finished. All they knew was the topic, which was _My Inspiration_, but somehow this tiny scrap of information somehow made the trio even more intrigued. Wilson rolled his eyes. "_Still _working on that thing?"

"Yep."

"There's a law, you know. About withholding such major information from parents and guardians. What you're doing is definitely illegal."

"Actually, life behind bars is looking pretty good next to stressing over this thing."

"I hear talking about it is supposed to take a lot off your shoulders."

"Nearly got me there. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"It was my turn to find out if you got any early-acceptance letters…!"

It was Libby's turn to roll her eyes. "Monday it was Dad, Tuesday it was Aunt Lisa, today it's you… is this like some endless cycle or something? And besides, it might be early-rejection letters, which is making me work even _harder _on this stupid thing. Hey, you think Dad would mind if I decided I don't want to go to college?"

Wilson snickered. "Come on Libby, you _know_ you're into Michigan. Just because you haven't got the letter yet…"

"And just because I got a letter from them last year saying they _want_ me to apply doesn't mean I got in. Maybe someone with better track times and better grades and better ambition applied and took the last spot for the early acceptances. And maybe once Pratt finds out that I applied to all my other schools beforehand they'll think they were an afterthought and…oh my gosh, that can't happen, can it?"

Wilson had to laugh at the panic on Libby's face. She was so scared about this, it was funny. This was the girl that had faced childhood cancer, a literally broken heart, a single parent, _living with House_ and she was terrified over one little letter?

"It's not funny."

"Yes it is! Look at yourself, you're worrying over nothing. Worst comes to worst, you've got your safety schools."

Libby shrugged. "I guess."

"Speaking of which…" Libby groaned. "What? I need to be sure. Have you gotten any letters yet?"

Libby nodded. Wilson gave an unflattering yelp of excitement. "Wait a minute-_were_ they rejection-letters?"

"Way to rephrase it. I've had them for a while…one for five days already. And I don't know…I've been too nervous to open them."

"I'll do it!"

"Oh, very sensitive."

"The sooner someone does it, the sooner it's over with, the sooner you know."

Libby sighed. "I see your point. Fine. But if…just don't be too disappointed if I don't get in anywhere."

"Libs, you can't ever disappoint me. Now where are those letters?"

"Follow me." Wilson trailed after Libby as she purposely strode into her bedroom. Wilson snuck a peak at the Pratt application (it was covered so he couldn't see anything) before he took a seat on her bed as she pulled a bin containing three very fat envelopes and one thin one out from under it. She placed it on the bed and sat on the other side of it, so the box was in between them.

"This is it?"

"What more were you expecting?"

"Libby, you definitely got into these three big ones! I don't know about the other one but…"

"Stop making me nervous. Just open it. Please."

"What order?"

"Umm…that one first." She pointed to a thick one with a Princeton address.

"Ahh…this is your dad's second choice."

"I know!"

"Ok, ok." Wilson carefully broke the seal. It was almost ceremonial and somehow it felt right that he was the one doing this with her. Wilson slipped his hand in and pulled out a fancy piece of paper. He read aloud:

_"Dear Ms. House_-Ms. House, can you believe it?"

"Uncle Jimmy!"

"All right, all right…_Dear Ms. House…Thank you for your outstanding application. Princeton University is pleased to offer you a place in the class of…_oh my…YOU GOT IN!"

"I got in?"

"You're in!"

Libby shrieked and hugged Wilson with tears rolling down her face. Wilson realized that his eyes were a tad wet too. He shook Libby's shoulders in congratulations. "I told you! I told you!"

Libby laughed and nodded. "Oh my gosh…I got into frickin' Princeton University!"

"I know! I know! Libby, I am just so proud of you…I mean _wow. _That's crazy. _Princeton. _You can stay at home and go to school."

Libby nodded. "That's why Dad wanted me to apply in the first place. Ok, next one. Let's do the…smallest one."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I want to get it over with."

"Ok…it's from Georgetown…nice, applying to my alma mater…ok, here we go…_Dear Ms. House…Thank you for your application to Georgetown University. The Office of Admissions has added your name to a wait list. The office will inform you of your status on or before June 8…_wait-listed? The heck? That's crazy. You…"

"It's ok…I only applied there because my guidance counselor said that if schools see you making ambitious applications, it will look good. I don't know how they would find out, but whatever. I could still get in, anyway. Let's move on, shall we?"

"We shall. This one's from Penn State…_nice…Dear Ms. House…The Office of Admissions was impressed with your application. We are pleased to invite you to join our class of…_Penn State. Holy cow. You're on a roll today."

Libby grinned. "I can't believe it. I mean…" She rolled on her back onto the bed and wiggled her toes, her favorite sign of excitement. Quirky, but cute. "Ok, last one. I think it's from Michigan."

"It is. Dun dun dun! This is the big one…if you get in here; you get to see not only Aunt Lisa get all nostalgic…but also your Dad…"

"Dun dun dun!"

Wilson took on a movie-phone voice. "This is the numero uno…let's begin…_Dear Ms. House…_"

"Very original."

Wilson looked at Libby. She was obviously the most nervous about this one, her fingers were shaking. "Good procrastination skills."

"I've been practicing."

"Ok, here we go..." Wilson read silently for a couple minutes with a very serious face. Libby started biting her nails. Finally, he looked up. "Libby, I just want you to know that no matter what this letter says, everyone is very proud of you. You are an outstanding girl…even Princeton says so…but no stupid letter from a college will change what you've already accomplished. That said…"

Libby bit her lip.

"…you are IN!"

Libby sat there in silence for a moment, obviously expecting rejection but digesting admission. After rubbing her blurry eyes she turned to Wilson. "That was so cruel…but seriously? I'm into Michigan?"

"You're into Michigan!"

Libby jumped up and ran from the room, leaving a very confused Wilson alone. At last, she came back but was hiding something behind her. "Uncle Jimmy, I want you to put those letters away right now please."

She spoke in such a cool and collected voice that Wilson instantly complied. Once they were safely under the bed, Libby pulled out the thermos-sized cup of cool water and spilled it all over Wilson. He blinked in surprise and wiped his eyes to see a guilty looking Libby in front of him.

"And that, my dear Watson, is called revenge."

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Fifteen minutes later, a slightly-damp Wilson and a still very paint-y Libby arrived at PPTH. They raced each other up the stairs to the Diagnostics Department. After only two minutes and sixteen seconds ("Short-Shorts" was always timing her, especially on stair-cases) Libby rushed into the conference room to find Foreman, Chase, and Harrison sitting idly around, with House no where in sight. "Hey. Where's my dad?"

"What's with the hurry? _Don't you have time for your Uncle Ewic anymaw?_"

"I just got to find him. Is he in the lab?"

Foreman was still wondering at how Libby missed his imitation of her at age three. It was so blatantly obvious he was teasing her. _Must be really important. _"No, you just missed him. He went down to the clinic."

"The ONE time!"

Libby ran out the door just as Wilson came panting in. Foreman looked questioningly at him. "What was that all about?"

Wilson's smiled stretched right from one ear to the other. "She got in."

Chase's eyes widened but he was grinning. "Where to?"

"Michigan, Penn State, and…_Princeton_."

Foreman cheered and pumped his fist in the air as Chase and Harrison exchanged high-fives. The four men exchanged an awkward hug and the rest of the day, snuck each other meaningful smiles.

_Ahhh, male-bonding._

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While this little scene which House would have _loved _to mock was taking place, Libby was playing a wild-goose chase. _This is ridiculous. It's a hospital-where could he go? _

Finally, she heard the familiar _thump _of a cane. "Dad!"

And for a second, House's heart stopped. His daughter's voice was filled with such raw emotion, he was terrified of the worst…there were a million possibilities: Her bones may have felt the achyness of relapse; her body may be rejecting the heart…

But there she was, happy as a clam. She wrapped her arms around him, the tears still falling.

"Dad…"

"Yeah?"

"Dad…I got in."

His jaw dropped. Slammed into the floor. Shattered into a million pieces. "In…in where?"

"College, Dad!"

"Well, I know that. I'm not Wilson. Come on, tell me where."

"Dad. You _know _there's a magic word."

"You mean the one we use to make the sailors blush?"

"Dad!"

"Fine. _Please _tell me where."

"Thank you. Ok…you ready?"

"Libby!"

"Penn State…Princeton…and before I do the last one I just want to tell you that I got wait-listed for Georgetown, ok?"

House was barely even paying attention to the last part. All he heard was the unsaid: _Ivy League. _"What's the last one?"

Libby said it so quietly House wasn't even sure he heard her right. In fact, he made her repeat it six more times until the duo were yelling it down the hallway that one Abigail Kayla House had gotten into Michigan University.

It was the cry heard all the way to Heaven. And up there; someone was cheering too.

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_Author's Note…Woohoo! She got in! Ok...so anyways, I have a couple little confessions: 1)I originally had Cuddy be the one to be with Libby when she opened her letters. I changed it because I thought Wilson needed to be in the story more. What do you think of my decision? 2) I have started working on the final chapter…it isn't the next one, probably not the one after that, but maybe the one after that. I had so many ideas about how I was going to do it; I just had to write it out. It's nowhere near done, though. Ok, that said, please review! Thanks! Next up…Libby founds out whether she gets into her numero uno college and the gang take a road trip to Michigan._


	24. Her Inspiration

_Disclaimer…I don't own anything._

_Author's Note…Got no reviews for the last chapter…hmmm. Oh well; it was a filler/transition chapter anyway…please leave reviews for this one._

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There is an old saying that if you wait and watch for a pot of water to boil, then it will never happen. You've got to look away, move on, focus on other things. Come back to it later and it will be all ready for you.

There is also another saying that goes good things happen to those who wait. Stick around, and you'll get what you want. Hang in there just a little while longer.

Libby sighed. Which was it then? Should she stick it out at home and wait for her second-to-last college letter? Or give up on the idea and set the trip her dad had been planning her whole life in action?

She ran her fingers through her hair as she slowly dialed. After about a minute of ringing, someone finally picked up. "Heeeeeeey."

Libby rolled her eyes. _Frat-boys. _"Hi, Andrew? This is Libby. Is Josh around?"

"Yesh he is, girlie!"

"Could you put him on for me please?"

"Oh yeah! Sure! Uhh, hold on just a sec." Libby waited as she a lot of banging that she only hoped came from dropping the phone. Finally, a familiar and thankfully sober voice came on. "Hello?"

"Josh? It's me, Libby."

"Oh hey. How are you?"

"Umm, I'm good. You?"

"Fine, fine. What's up…get into any colleges?"  
"Yeah, that's what I'm calling about. I got into a few…"

"Which ones" Josh interrupted.

"Penn, Princeton, Michigan, maybe Georgetown but I don't think I'll go there, Colgate, and that's it so far. The only ones I'm waiting to hear from are Columbia and Pratt, but I haven't even sent in my application to the second one so I'm not complaining."

"Damn right you aren't when you're getting into Princeton."

Libby giggled. "Yeah, I know but I am just _so _ready to be done with this already."

"I remember the feeling. So are you just calling to get another round of congratulations or is it something else?"

"Oh come on! Fine, fine…so anyway, my Dad wants me to take a trip with him and maybe Uncle Jimmy-you remember him right?-up to Michigan with him and we've got to do it soon because soon I'll be too busy with midterms then finals then all this other junk and he'll have work. But I really want to hang around until I find out from Columbia."

"Your dream school."

"Yeah. How funny is it that you're the only person who knows that? So anyway, what do you think I should do?"

"I'm only saying this because I'm selfish like that but I think you should come."

"Doesn't sound very selfish."

"It is. I only said it cause it'd be nice to see you."

Libby blushed. "Well, I think you can get away with that."

"And besides, you should see the campus. Plus, you've got an on-call tour-guide waiting for you."

Libby's brow furrowed. "Not Andrew, right?"

"Me!"

"_You're _a tour guide!'

"No. But I know my way around the campus so…I could just as good a job. And it'll have more benefits."

"I'm not going to sleep with you. Even if my dad wasn't going to be there. Which he is."

"It's always about the sex with you, isn't it?"

"Always."

"Well, if that's how it's going to be, then I'll just keep on hanging around up here thinking that good things come to those who wait."

That _had _to be a sign to stay. But Libby knew herself pretty well, and she knew that interpreting signs from the heavens weren't exactly her strong point. She was almost always wrong. Libby winced as she remembered the time she had thought it was a good idea to keep up running during the winter months because a news reporter had mentioned something about how people gain much more weight in the winter than the summer. Three patches of black-ice later and she had herself a broken leg. In the freezing cold. She prayed her disability proved true as she told Josh that she would see him next weekend.

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The corvette had somehow turned into a clown-car. Stuffed to the brim with four bags, three doctors, two bags full of textbooks, and one teenager, the car was practically overflowing. Cuddy had offered her Lexus but House had firmly declined, saying that when he arrived at his old school, he had to look _cool_. Much grimacing from Libby ensued.

Four and a half hours after leaving Princeton, Cuddy was fast asleep and Wilson was almost there, despite the noise of the radio. Libby was the only passenger that was wide-awake. She leaned forward in her seat a little bit. "So, do you think I'll like it?"

"Like it? That was one of your reasons for applying."

"I guess." Libby sounded unsure.

"It's great. The professors are pretty good. The parties are _excellent…_not that you'll be allowed to go to any of them…"

"Whatever you say…not."

"That's what you think now."

Libby fumbled around for something in her bag. "And that's what I'm going to keep thinking. Hey Uncle Jimmy?"

Wilson lifted his head slightly. "Yeah?"

"Take this." Libby handed him a pill and a bottle of water.

Wilson dry-swallowed them and instantly fell back asleep, completely there now. He did look quite green; House couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it. He raised his eyebrows at Libby. "Dramamine?"

"Medicinal marijuana."

"Of course. Much better. You know, they have a great medical school here too."

Libby rolled her eyes. "You wish. I already picked my majors out."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I've got a whole plan. I even wrote it up and signed it."

"You John Hancocked your own plan?"

"I wanted to be sure I stuck to it."

House shook his head. "What is this plan of yours?"

"I'm going to do a major of Journalism with a minor of Culinary Arts. But if I decide to go to an art school…"

"Pratt."

"Yeah. If I do that then I will probably switch it around, or drop Journalism altogether."

"Sounds like a plan. Not a very good plan, but a plan."

"You don't like it?"

"Definitely don't drop Journalism. I think you should keep it as your major but that's your choice. Speaking of Pratt…when do I get to see that application?"

"When I finish it."

"Which will be…?"  
"Probably a week after we get home."

"Finally!"

Libby was quiet for a couple minutes. "Hey Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"What if I'm not good at it?"

"Don't even think about that. You'll be fine. The way you face challenges…it's a non-issue."

Libby looked skeptical but she dropped the subject. She stretched in her seat and looked out the window to see a big building up ahead. "Is that it?"

House drove up a little more so Libby could view the whole campus. "That's it."

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While House and Cuddy ogled at how much hadn't changed over the years, Wilson and Libby got their first good look at the school. It was very intimidating. Libby scanned the crowd of students, looking for Josh. She sighed. No way would she be able to find him. Suddenly, a team…Wilson guessed basketball, since they were all taller than him except for a couple…rushed by them, and made a few whistles in Libby's direction, all the while chanting out _"Spartans! Spartans! Spartans!" _Wilson looked at her; she looked a little startled, to say the least. "No matter what school you go to, they'll be there."

Libby smiled and looked around. "What happened to Dad and Aunt Lisa?"

Wilson scanned the crowds. "Oh, crud." He turned back to Libby, but she was gone too. An incredible surge of panic swept through him as he ran about the masses of students. _Oh man, what have I done? Libby's not ready to be alone here! This is what House was the product of! Man oh man oh man. _

Suddenly, he saw Libby running in the other direction towards a…_man_ he didn't recognize. He knew she was still with that Josh kid, and that they were pretty serious _(better not be too serious)_, but he couldn't identify this man for the life of him. Wilson watched as Libby jumped into his arms and he caught her and they kissed and _who the hell does he think he is? _

Wilson ran over to the duo and was about to tear them apart until he realized that the man _was _Josh. Even though he knew who he was, he still wasn't happy with the situation. "Put. Her. Down."

Josh complied. He was always intimidated by Libby's family, and with good reason. "So, how are you Dr. Wilson?"

Wilson tried to narrow his eyes. He didn't know whether the fact he trusted him was a good thing or a bad thing. "I'm fine. You got big."

"Oh, yeah." It was true. Next to Libby's 5:1 foot form, the guy's 6:3 build looked almost like a giant. He turned back to her. "Libby, I have the funniest story to tell you. I've told it a million times, but you're the only girl that'll appreciate it."

Libby tipped her head back and laughed heartily. Wilson realized that she hadn't done that since Josh left to attend college. He missed it and he knew he would probably regret what he was about to do next. "Hey, you kids can go off and be by yourselves for a little bit. I'll meet you in the…cafeteria, I guess…at 6:15."

Libby walked over towards Wilson. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah just…don't do anything stupid. And_ make sure _you're there. You're dad will cane me if anything happens to you. Actually, be there at 6:00. Make that 5:45. You know what-why not…?"

"Uncle Jimmy, thank you, I'll see you at a quarter to 6. Bye!" And with that, the two walked off somewhere, obviously enjoying the story.

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Two days later, on the drive back home, for four hours; all Libby could talk about was how much she loved it. From the football game she had gone to, to the track meet she saw, from the anecdotes Josh and his friend had told her, to the college rock station she had found on the radio. And House loved every minute of it.

When the three (House, Cuddy, and Libby) finally got at 10:00 at night after dropping off Wilson, out of habit House and Cuddy collapsed on the couch while Libby went about organizing things. She wiped the dust off the counter, put the newspapers in the recyclable bin, and went to old Mrs. Markins house to get the mail. As she was sorting through it, a particular address caught her eye.

"I got in." She said it simply, clearly, and calmly, which was the total opposite of how she felt.

House and Cuddy turned around without getting up. "In where?"

"Columbia."

"Congrats."

Libby sat down on the counter which she just cleaned and reread the letter. House finally summoned up enough energy to walk over to her. "I guess you've got a decision to make."

Libby looked him right in the eye. "Nope. Not really. I'm going to Michigan."

Cuddy silently pumped her fist in the air, but House remained silent. "Josh told me that's where you want to go."

Libby shrugged. "Well, I guess I thought wrong because I was at least ten times happier when I found out I got into Michigan than Columbia."

"Are you sure?"

She grinned. "Positive." She moved to go to her room, presumably to call Josh.

"Wait a minute." Cuddy was up too now.

"Yeah?"

"So you're definitely going to Michigan, right?"

"Right."  
"So there's no reason to apply to Pratt."

Libby could see where this was going. She might as well follow it through; they were bound to found to find out somehow. "I guess not."

"I see. So about that application…"

"I finished it the morning we left. You can see it if you want to…"

Cuddy ran into the room and House hobbled off as quickly as he could. Libby smiled to herself as she heard their gasps coming from her room. After about a minute, she finally had enough momentum to go into her room herself and see their reactions.

Cuddy's eyes were filling up with tears as she stared at the canvas. It was about as wide as a double-bed and four feet tall. It was a painting of an incredibly beautiful blue eye. But it wasn't just that; there were small but very realistic and detailed images painted a shade lighter than the rest of the eye that adorned the iris. She recognized them; one was a stethoscope. Another was a bouquet of roses; a wedding bouquet. It was Cameron's. And another one was one she knew very well: It was a photograph Wilson had taken of the four of them at the beach one day when Libby was seven. It was a pretty candid shot; Wilson had just randomly outstretched his arm away from his body and took a snap. It had come out beautifully, everyone in it was laughing. And here was a perfect recreation of it. But it wasn't just the images that made the painting so exquisite. It seemed to be…shining. Finally, she realized why: instead of having the thin lines that striated the iris, Libby had used gleaming safety-pins. And under each one, there was a tiny red line. Cuddy knew it stood for hurt and it made the whole thing amazingly dimensional. She didn't know a simple painting could move her so much.

House nudged Libby softly, his voice all choked up with emotion. "That's…that's…"

Libby was crying too, although she didn't know why. She guessed it had been a very poignant night. "It's you, Dad. It's you. You're my inspiration."

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_June…Libby's High School Graduation…_

House, Wilson, Cuddy, Chase, Chase's girlfriend Nora, Foreman, Foreman's wife Jamie, Harrison, House's dad, and Josh all sat in a row on the soggy lawn of Libby's High School. They watched with pride as their little girl (and Josh's just plain "girl") walked down the aisle. House's eyes were wet, and he leaned over to Wilson. "I never thought she'd live to this point."

"I know. And she's Valedictorian."

The man sitting in front of them turned around for the fifth time that morning and shushed them. House stuck out his tongue and Wilson shook his head. _At least you will never see him again. Unfortunately, you are stuck with House for forever-ish. _

But half an hour later, when Libby took the shaky steps up to present her Valedictorian Speech (which, in typical tradition, no one had heard) the whole area was completely silent. This only made Libby more nervous.

"Good morning. Thank you all for being here to cele…to celebrate the graduation of my peers and myself." She looked up and surveyed the crowd. Everyone's eyes were on her. "You know, it says in the description in your pamphlets that part of my speech includes welcoming you here today. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized; this isn't a welcome. It's a good-bye. It's really time to say good-bye to this wonderful group of people that I have grown to know and love over the years. I know that even when we go our different ways this fall; we will always be somehow united. But before I really begin talking about them…because there is just so much to say…I want to thank a few people, the first being the entire staff at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Not a lot of people can say they wouldn't be alive without such and such, but I can and I am so grateful. Next, I want to thank Dr. Robert Chase, Dr. Carl Harrison, and Dr. Eric Foreman for always being there to teach me everything from tying my shoes to adding and subtracting to teaching me how to throw a good punch to telling one hundred and one stories about my mom. And finally, I want to thank Dr. James Wilson and Dr. Lisa Cuddy for never ceasing to amaze and inspire me. They are a two-person triumvirate that has never really let my dad be a single parent.

And there's one more person I want to thank. You know, I got into some good colleges and today, I'm going to graduate with honors, and there are a million different aspects to my crazy personality but I can only see myself striving to fit into one pair of shoes. The owner of these shoes would maybe tease me about it, probably discourage it, but the truth is when I grow up, I want to be just like him. This person is my dad, Dr. Gregory House. Because no matter who I see or what I do in life, and no matter how others see me, I will always first and foremost define myself as my father's daughter."

…

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_Author's Note…Aww. Ok, just for the record, she says stuff after that, we just don't hear it. I thought it was a good place to stop. Anyhoo, aww. Ok, there are about two chapters left, plus an Epilogue. I get the sense that people are ready for this to end, and it's time. Ok, please review…I got none for the last chapter! Thanks!_


	25. Fear

_Disclaimer…No, I don't own House. Stop asking. Also, the little anecdote I use at the end is inspired by Jodi Picoult's My Sister's Keeper. _

_Author's Note…I got reviews! Yay! _

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There are times in a man's life when he has got to give up the things he loves. It began in the Bible, when Abraham sacrificed Isaac because it was his command to do so. House wondered if Abraham felt guilty as he lowered his son onto the stone, if a montage of memories flashed through his head as he raised the ax. If he complied angrily or helplessly or if he had tried to bargain with G/d. If he knew that no matter how the day ended, neither father nor son would ever be the same.

Although House was just driving Libby up to college, and wasn't about to kill his daughter, he sure felt that way. He felt what he imagined Abraham must have felt; guilty and angry and helpless. And every time he tried to brush those emotions from his mind, all he had to do was look at Libby, sitting next to him, pulling her fingers, and they would all come back.

There were a million things that could go wrong. She would have to buy her own food most of the time and be very careful about what she ate in the cafeteria. The diabetes might act up. She might relapse and not know it. He looked at her, and saw she was staring straight ahead. The campus was coming into view. "You know, we could always find a way to transfer you to Princeton."

Libby's gaze never wavered. "No. I'm going here. I want to go here."

The two got out of the car and began to unload the luggage, which consisted of two duffels, both of which Libby carried. For a small girl, she was pretty strong.

House had to personally remind himself of that fact constantly.

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Four hours later, the duo had unpacked, got the dorm room all set up, and eaten lunch. They both stood awkwardly next to the car, as if waiting for a meteor or something to come crashing down. House crossed his arms nervously, a self-defensive mechanism, and Libby looked around. "I guess it's time to say good-bye now."

"Seeing as we're right next to the car, I guess so."

Libby smiled and hugged him. "I'll call you soon, ok?" And she walked away, refraining from turning back. House envied her.

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A week later she still hadn't called. House and Wilson had seriously thought about alerting the campus police or something, but Cuddy had talked them out of it, assuring them that the first week was always crazy and Libby was probably still settling in. The truth was, she always come close to having a heart attack when the phone rang, terrified that the person on the other line would tell them that something terrible had happened to Libby.

So when one day she was in House's office alone, looking for an extra set of keys, and the phone rang, she approached it cautiously. "He…hello?"

"Aunt Lisa!"

"Libby! How are you? How's college going?"

"Great."

"Which one is great?"

"Both of them."

"That's good. So what's your roommate like?"

"Her name is Susan, and she's a vegetarian. We decided that we would try and stick to each other's diets as well as our own in the dorm so, you know, I won't come home one day and find her eating a chocolate bar and she won't come back from a long class and find me eating a hamburger or something."

"Libby, don't do that. You need the protein."

"Well, I eat it outside the room. That's basically the only rule."

"Ok, what else is new?"

"I got a job."

"Already?"

"Yeah. There's this bakery there and the owner is this little old man and he's the only one who works there all day long by himself and so I told him that I could work here on weekends. At first he didn't want to hire me but then I told him that I was minoring in Culinary Arts. That got him interested and I already started. It's a pretty good job."

"That will look good on your application for a job. So anyway, things have been lonely here without you."

_"Awww."_

House walked into the room and rolled his eyes at Cuddy gabbing on the phone. "Oh, your dad just walked in. You wanna talk to him?"

"Sure."

House took the phone. "Is this Libby?"

"I don't know, is there anyone else that would call you Dad?"

"Well, Chase does like to call me Big Daddy, so…"

"Ew."

"So anyway, way to not call."

"Well, I knew that if I called too soon, I would have to listen to you make fun of me. Was I correct?"

"Yeah, but that's irrelevant."

"Yeah, how could I forget? It's only relevant when you're right."

"Right. But as we both know, that doesn't matter."

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And so the year progressed until one innocent March night, when House was just watching TV by himself, there was a knock at the door. Groaning, House got up and answered it only to find Libby at the other side. "Hey, kid!"  
He had barely gotten the words out when Libby enveloped him in a hug, her arms touching each other across his back. "Hi, Dad."

They moved into the kitchen, where Libby instantly set about making some coffee. House leaned against the counter. Libby had visited before on Thanksgiving during Winter Break, but never unannounced. "So, what are you doing here? I mean, I'm glad to see you, but…"

She turned to him. "Dad, you might want to sit down."

House remained standing and braced himself. He knew this had to be bad news, or she would have called, or something. "Just tell me."

"I'm engaged."

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House blinked. No, his eighteen year old did _not _just tell him she was getting married. Mm-mm. No way. Libby, seeing the look on his face, quickly spoke. "Yes we are. Josh and I are getting married. We decided that we would definitely wait until we've both graduated, because otherwise we are much too young, so you've got at least four yours to, you know, regain the power of speech and stuff."

_How can she read my mind like that? _"I…_married_!"

"Yes."

"But…but…you've only been dating for…"

"Almost seven years."

"Well, that's not so long considering…"

"Dad, it's plenty long. And when we do get married, it will have been more than ten years."

Somewhere near the front of the apartment, the door swung open and Cuddy and Wilson entered. Before they even registered that Libby was there, House blurted out that she was getting married.

It took Wilson only a quick moment to answer. "No."

Cuddy slowly sat herself down. _"What?"_

Libby looked around. "Josh and I. We're getting married."

"Greg?"

House looked up to see Cuddy peering at him as if he had three heads or something. Apparently, he would be passing the final judgment on this. "They've got a good plan."

"No they don't." It was Wilson again.

"Yes, they do. And…not for four years."

Cuddy's jaw slammed into the floor. "Are you seriously supporting this?"

"Yes. On one condition." Everyone waited. "You have to wait until you've both graduated and have started your careers, not jobs, careers, until you even begin planning this wedding. AND…when you do get married, you have to stay within a…thirty minutes TOPS radius of here."

There was a moment of silence. Finally, Libby ran into her dad's arms, crazy thanking him with moist eyes. Much like the three other pairs in the room.

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And so the year marched on. Winter turned into spring and then June rolled around. Libby had had a cough for month now, and although she thought for sure it was just lack of sleep combined with allergies (she had always had them) Josh had insisted she visit the clinic that was near the campus.

The young doctor had prescribed some allergy medication and whatnot, but had done an X-Ray, only because of her medical history. That had been a week ago. This week was finals and Libby hadn't given the visit a second thought.

That is, until the phone rang at 5:30 one evening asking for Libby to come back down to the hospital and meet with a Dr. Laurence. From Oncology.

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Josh and Libby had been sitting down in the oncologist's office for half an hour when the doctor finally came in. "I'm so sorry, it's my wife, we had a big fight…Let me introduce myself. I'm Dr. Laurence, and you must be Ms. House. And this is…"

_Do all oncologists have marital problems? _"I'm Libby, and this is my fiancé, Josh."

"Well, hello. I've reviewed your X-Ray and…" Suddenly, he couldn't look Libby in the eye anymore. "It seems your cancer has returned and you've relapsed. I'm so sorry. Unfortunately, we'll need to determine this with what's called an open lung biopsy. You will be under general anesthesia and we will cut out a small piece of your lung and examine it for cancer. We'll need to do the test as soon as possible. Tomorrow morning."

Libby had begun crying into but nodded quickly and signed whatever needed to be signed. She was moved into a room and had just been lying in the hospital bed with Josh, with her head in his chest, when she realized she had forgotten something. "Josh?" She spoke quietly; she wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep.

He hadn't. "Yeah?"

"We need to tell my dad."

Josh glanced at the clock and sat up. It was 12:30. "Do you want to wait for tomorrow morning or to tell him in person or…?"

"Now. I have to tell him now. I can't keep this from him." Josh nodded and handed her the phone. Slowly but surely, she began to dial.

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_The next morning right after Libby's surgery…_

When House was going into ninth grade, his parents had sent him into some kind of boot camp in upstate New York. It was a random action-adventure camp, but for "troubled" kids. The camp was on a farm, and every morning, one boy had to do herd the sheep and follow about a hundred of them around. Inevitably, House got that job one morning. It was then he learned that a sheep is the absolute stupidest animal alive. But anyway, there he was, sweating and smelling as it was hot and there was absolutely no shade to speak of, when he heard an ear-shattering scream. House had run to the source, thinking that someone had been trampled or some other horrific event, but he found one of the sheep giving birth.

This was obviously before he was a doctor, and by no stretch was he vet, nor did he know anything about animals, but he wasn't stupid and realized that that's not how it's supposed to sound. So he got down on his knees to see what he would later know as a breach birth. Gagging the whole way through, he pulled the baby sheep out of his mother.

And when it came out, it had a certain look in his eye, like he had seen the other side and seen it long enough to know just what he was missing.

He remembered this now as he walked into Libby's post-op room, knowing full well that she had already been pronounced terminal and probably wouldn't be alive to see the fall semester, because that's what Libby looked like as she woke up.

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_Author's Note…Ducks rotten fruit…please review, even though I guess you can figure out how it's going to end…tear…BTW…starting to notice any parallels between Josh and Cameron? _


	26. Sweet Dreams

_Disclaimer…I don't own anything. Not House; not the Mamas and the Papas. (BTW…I didn't include the full song, I skipped two verses at the end but they were just repeats.) The quotes are by (in this order) Leo Buscaglia and Woody Allen. _

_Author's Note…Thanks to everyone for all your lovely reviews! This story is 2 months old today and this is the last chapter…tears…visit my profile if you want to see the summaries for the next story I'm writing along with My Girl. Ok, I just want to say I wrote this note after I finished the chapter and I am hysterical crying so I'm just going to say to review here so…please review! I think I'm going to write an epilogue…please tell me if you want it or if you don't…thanks!_

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On Wilson's desk, he still has the same baseball pictures and the clutter is all too familiar. The chair setup hasn't changed, hell; he probably hasn't moved the chairs an inch in his entire career. The _Star Wars _poster on the wall hasn't lost any color and is as vibrant as the rest of the office. As for Wilson himself; he is a little chunkier, a little shorter, and a little grayer but still a chronic sonneteer.

All these things lead House to believe that the last thirteen years or so of remission were all a ruse and he, well; he was the fool that believed that things had changed.

It's Josh, Libby, Cuddy, and House sitting on one side of the desk with Wilson on the other. Wilson is struck by even though there are five people in his small office; it feels like it's just him and…Cameron. In his mind it's always been Cameron he's been answering to; it was Cameron's grave he visited whenever Libby's cancer had some new development and it was Cameron he said a _Mourners Kaddish _for every third Saturday in temple and while the words were in Hebrew, he just mumbled _I'm sorry _over and over again and it was Cameron who was standing across the room, her hands on her hips and her head shaking from side to side because Wilson was going to send her beloved daughter up to heaven much too soon. Wilson gave his head a little shake and surveyed his…audience? They are listening attentively enough. "Maybe we should cut down on the number of people in here."

No one moved, but Libby tightened her grip on Josh's hand. After an awkward moment, Cuddy pushed her chair back and started to get up, but House gave her a pleading look that she couldn't resist. House looked towards Josh, who was comfortingly stroking Libby's hand. And that's when he realized; if Libby wasn't dying and House outlived her, Josh would have been the one to take care of her. And he would cram all that caring into the last months of her life. Libby's fate wasn't being born into this family; it was only a part of it. And the rest of it was Josh.

With this now discovered, House couldn't very well stay there, taking up too much room. So he gave Libby a little nod and went out the door, with a bewildered Cuddy in tow. And just like that, House realized he was wrong; he wasn't losing Libby now. He had _been _losing her for a while now. Seven years. And that was how it was supposed to be; that's what Libby deserved.

Somehow, this lessened the pain. He felt better, and sank into the depths of denial. _If Libby isn't mine to lose, I haven't really lost. _

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Wilson could barely bring himself to look Josh and Libby in the eye. Finally, Libby spoke. "Some one already told us the bad part, Uncle Jimmy. Just please tell us how long I…how long I have to live."

Wilson ran his fingers through his hair. "Not very long."

"Could you give us a number?"

"I could…" _but I don't want to. _"Six to eight weeks."

Josh let out a small gasp and Libby squeezed his hand. "So that's…in sixty days I probably won't be alive. I won't be 19 yet. I…I'll…" Her voice faltered. Wilson rose in his seat and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I'll give you a few minutes alone."

The minute he left, Libby broke down. The tears were falling uncontrollably and the thoughts were pouring in, each one more complex than the last until finally one came in that Libby liked. "Hey Josh? Maybe it's like how in school, I finished everything first."

Josh strained a smile. "Maybe."

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The next five weeks flew by. It was summer so there was no school and although House still believed Josh was Libby's fate, he wouldn't allow them to share a room. But a day didn't go by when Josh didn't visit.

It was after one of these visits Libby was relaxing on the couch. She was still active and managed to not become bedridden. But she was exhausted most of the time. She lay pondering this; how was it that when your body knows it's going to stop working, it loses all its energy. Was it giving up? Or did it simply not have the reserves? Maybe when you're born, your body has a certain stock of life in it, and once you run out, nothing happens anymore. By this logic, it was much better that Libby was dying after living a short but full life than Libby dying after a long but somewhat empty life past the age of nineteen.

While Libby was thinking this; suddenly a new thought popped into her head. Then another one and another one and although she didn't know where she was coming from, she suddenly had to get it all out of her. She ran into the kitchen, where House was making his own coffee for once, one of the things he would have to do for himself from now on. "Dad!"

House looked up, terrified. They only had three weeks left with her, tops, and that number could be cut down at any time and there was nothing to bargain with or beg to. "Yeah?" he asked tentatively.

"Dad, it all makes sense now! Everything! Mom's first marriage, me…dying, everything! Just listen; it's all about company! Mom's husband died so that when Mom died, she wouldn't be alone up in heaven. But sometime soon, in a week or so, his _real _soulmate or something is going to die, and he's going to be with her. So Mom will be all alone. And we'll know she is because that's going to be when _I _die. And then I'll get to meet her and…it couldn't have been _you _that died, because you're not patient enough to wait! I…I'm so happy now, Dad. It all makes sense and it's so much better."

House allowed himself a small smile. It was a nice theory and it certainly made everyone happy. Except one person. "What about Josh and Aunt Lisa?"

"Aunt Lisa's got someone up there for her. And Josh; I'll wait for him. I hope he finds another girl. I already told him to…that one day he has to move on. Besides, I want to pick her out for him."

"Sounds like you've got the afterlife all mapped out."

"Yup. It's looking much better now."

House nodded. "That's good." Then he made a face. "This coffee is awful. Just awful." Why was it he lost everyone that knew how to make coffee?

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The next morning, at exactly 5:01, House awoke with a start and looked around from his bed. The room was very light for that time of day, almost too light. Suddenly, he practically jumped out of bed and hobbled into Libby's room, completely ignoring the beautiful sunrise through the window.

She was gone. There Libby, or her body, was, lying in bed, eclipsed in the new, colorful light, but she wasn't there to enjoy it. House didn't even have to take her pulse or check to see if her chest was rising and falling. He knew just from staring from the other side of the room that he was very, very wrong and that he had lost, fate be damned.

His daughter was dead.

The phone rang. House picked it up and just like that; knew exactly who it was. "Josh, just come over right now." He didn't even say hello or good-bye. In this life, no one really does.

House made slow, cautious steps towards the shell that used to be the only reason he got up and out of bed every day. Her face was empty of any emotion, just everlasting peace. His face wet, House realized that she had never really gotten the chance to get any wrinkles, and maybe it was better that way. He took another step so he was right next to the bed. Slowly, he leaned over and kissed good-bye on her forehead. "Sweet dreams."

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The morning of Libby's funeral, House woke up with a wet pillow and a wet face. He didn't bother to wipe them off; more were sure to come. Still not out of bed, he rolled over to find Cuddy crying into the pillow, not wanting to wake him up but like him, not ready to leave the room either.

He nudged her silently then he realized: you don't need to be awake to cry.

House went the long way to the bathroom…through the kitchen. It hurt like crazy but it was a physical hurt…he could deal with that. It was the emotional hurt that he couldn't handle, which was why he avoided Libby's room at all costs.

Libby's room. House couldn't help himself. As soon as he opened the door, he was attacked by the sweet appley-floraly smell of her perfume and was flooded with memories. The bed was unmade, the closet was open, the clothes she had been wearing the night before she died were in a pile on the floor. And just like that; he knew that this was exactly how the room would stay. But for now, he would keep the door closed.

He would wait for his heart to mend itself.

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When House and Cuddy got to the funeral parlor, Wilson was there carrying a super-pack of tissue boxes. His face was already tear-streaked. Cuddy raised her eyebrows at the ten-pack of tissues.

"I got here at 6 this morning with one of those pocket-packs. But I used all of them up really fast, so I went over to Cosco and bought one of these. I already used one, and the funeral director said to just stuff as many tissues as we need into the seats."

Cuddy half-laughed. She couldn't sum up the energy for a full one. "What were you doing here at six in the morning?"

"I…I just couldn't miss it."

"The service starts at ten. That's in an hour."

"I…it's Libby. I had to be sure."

Cuddy nodded. She understood; today was the one day they had to do everything right for Libby. It was their very last chance. "Do you…do you have your eulogies?" Cuddy choked out the last word. It felt cold and harsh in her mouth but there was no relief once she said it. Actually, it only made it worse.

Both men nodded. House looked up and saw the complete path of a single raindrop as it made its way down from the heavens and onto his forehead. "Did you guys feel that?"

Cuddy and Wilson both shook their heads and gave each other worried looks. The trio stood there for fifteen more minutes in silence, until Wilson finally suggested that they go inside. Everything would change there.

Everything.

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House sat vacantly in the "living-room" in the funeral parlor which was right outside of where the ceremony would be held. Cuddy was sitting right next to him, so close their thighs were touching, even though it was a very large room and there were plenty of other seats. House stared at his empty hands while Cuddy watched Wilson pace the length of one of the three loveseats.

The door slowly creaked open and Wilson hopefully looked up. _What are you hoping? That Libby will be behind that door? That this whole ordeal will just be a big misunderstanding? What? Stop setting yourself up for disappointment._

It was Josh. He stepped in without saying anything and sat across from House. He had always been intimidated by him but today, they were on the same playing field. House noticed that he was worrying something between his fingers. House raised himself slightly from the couch and snuck a peak.

It was a photograph. Of Josh and Libby. Even as House allowed himself a small smile at seeing Libby so happy, he wondered how the heck Josh had managed to get a picture of the incredibly camera-shy girl. House looked down to see Joshing handing him the picture.

He examined it, drunk in every small detail from the dimple right under Libby's ear to the small goosebumps on Josh's arm, extended towards the camera as if he were taking the picture, from the laughing smile on Libby's face to the date in the corner. House's heart stopped. It was taken the day she got diagnosed. It hurt.

"Excuse me?"

House looked up to see a small, skinny man in a dark suit. House groaned quietly; he was so indifferent to this guy. "What?" He didn't care that he was rude.

"Hello, my name is Neal Platoni; I'm the funeral director here. I'm so sorry for your loss and I hate to bother you…"

"Then don't" House snapped. Cuddy didn't even bother to give him a look; she was thinking the same thing.

"…But I just have a few things we need to take care of so the service can flow as smoothly as possible. I only have one question; do you have anything you need to give me…some more flowers you want displayed around the funeral, a few photographs of your daughter?"

"I do." Both Wilson and Cuddy gave Josh harsh looks, harsh enough to stop any other person dead in their tracks but Josh slowly got up and handed Mr. Platoni a thin case. "It's Track 20. She said she wanted it to be played continuously."

Mr. Platoni nodded. "And one more thing. I'm…I'm going to need two of you to identify the body."

Wilson and Cuddy gasped but House remembered this. It was the policy of any funeral parlor. As if they were thinking the same thought, House and Josh simultaneously walked into the room where Libby's body lay.

In the four days since she had passed, the smile Libby had been wearing when she died as if she had been having a good dream but was simply interrupted had turned so her mouth was just a pink line. It was probably a result of the trip.

House saw Josh's hand stray from his side and wipe the curl off Libby's face that she was always brushing away. The two of them stood next to the coffin, each bidding their private, silent good-byes. In the back of the room, Mr. Platoni was fumbling with what looked to be a CD-Player. House was so out of it, he didn't even care. He heard the door open a bit and saw Cuddy come towards him. "Come on. You shouldn't stay here."

House looked back towards Libby's body for one last time and made the first steps toward walking away. And as he did, he heard a song that was so Libby, it had to be fate.

_Stars shining bright above you_

_Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"_

_Birds singin' in the sycamore tree_

_Dream a little dream of me_

When he went back into the lobby, he saw that it was many people were now milling about. There were some people he recognized; and some he didn't. One lady made her way over House. She had weathered skin, clear brown eyes, and tired blonde hair. "Dr. House? My name is Kara Chance. You don't know me but…your daughter had a heart transplant, right? Well, that heart…it used to belong to my son. My husband didn't want to come but we found out who they gave his heart to and we've been following your story all these years and…well, your daughter lived a beautiful life. And the hurt? It gets better." Mr. Platoni walked over to their small group. "Again, I'm starting to bother you but the service is starting in a couple minutes so you should move into the room now please. Thank you." House ignored him and stared in awe at this Kara Chance and wondered if she knew her last name was an uncommon synonym for hope.

_Say nighty-night and kiss me_

_Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me_

_While I'm alone and blue as can be_

_Dream a little dream of me_

House, Cuddy, Wilson, and Josh all took their seats in the front. The campus priest from Michigan said a few words and led a few prayers even though none of them had wanted this to be a religious service. After that, Cuddy went up to give her eulogy. She began with factual information, always factual information. You can't blame anyone for the facts. "Ancient Egyptians believed that death, they would be asked two questions and their answers would determine whether they continue in the afterlife. The first question was 'did you find joy?' The second question was 'did you bring joy?' Abigail Kayla House was the type of person who did both…" Wilson's speech was more or less the same. "Libby always knew she was going to die. For her, it was always just a matter of when. When talking about it to me once, she once quoted a famous actor: 'I'm not afraid of death. I just don't want to be there when it happens…'" Josh's was a little different. It was mostly anecdotes about her. And finally, it was House's turn. He still had the eulogy he made in the hospital so many years ago and was clutching it like a lifeline now, but suddenly it didn't seem to matter. He stood up there silent as the tears rolled down for one minute, two minutes, three minutes…

_Stars fading but I linger on dear_

_Still craving your kiss_

_I'm longing to linger 'till dawn dear_

_Just saying this_

Four minutes, five minutes. Finally, he leaned into the small podium and said clearly "words really don't do her any justice."

Ten minutes later, about thirty people made their way to the cemetery to pay their very last respects. The _thump_ sound the coffin made as it hit the bottom of the hole broke House's heart a million and one times. He diverted his eyes and looked at the tombstone. Underneath the dates and the name and the beloved daughter, etc. was the quote the two of them had decided on a while ago. He had almost forgotten about it, but his had to be fate.

_Sweet dreams 'till sunbeams find you_

_Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you_

_But in your dreams whatever they be_

_Dream a little dream of me_

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And somewhere up above, a daughter recognized a familiar figure in the crowds; her mom. As for her; she had seen her baby all along. Cameron kissed Libby on top of her forehead, just as her father had done earlier that day, and asked her if she wanted to start from where they left off.

So just like that, she was back in the delivery room except Cameron was alive and Libby was alive and House wasn't there at all. But that was ok…he would be there soon, right after Cameron and Libby had their eighteen years of memories together.

_Stars fading but I linger on dear_

_Still craving your kiss_

_I'm longing to linger 'till dawn dear_

_Just saying this_

_Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you_

_Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you_

_But in your dreams whatever they be_

_Dream a little dream of me_


	27. Epilogue

_Disclaimer…I don't own anything._

_Author's Note…The Epilogue…dun dun dun! I just want to thank all my AMAZING reviewers who have done such a good job and inspired me so much…every time I read one I just get happy! ;) Well, anyway, now that the story is OFFICIALLY over, I'm kinda sad to let it go. It's my first story...it's my baby. Oh well. Time to leave the nest. I know, I know…me so cheesy. _

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There are many labels to put on a person when they lose somebody. When both parents die, they are an orphan. When their husband dies, they are a widow. When their wife dies, they are a widower. When their siblings die, they are an only child. When their friends die, they are alone.

And when their children die; they're ruined.

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Things were bad for a couple years, really, really bad. Cuddy and Wilson were husks of people, walking around without emotion because it was easier to feel nothing than it was to feel angry, sad, and dead. But time marched on; as it inevitably would; and they learned to cry and they learned to grieve and they learned to remember and eventually; they learned how to smile.

But they were never Libby's parent.

It was the little things that got to him. No phone calls from college on Sunday nights, coming home to an empty coffee pot, the feeling in his stomach he got when he went up and down the elevator each morning at work and saw the flashing red number "7". He wondered how Wilson managed to get off there every day. About three weeks after the funeral, House had gone food shopping as there was literally nothing to eat. He been fine through the gourmet food section, fine through the bakery, but when he went down the snack aisle and realized he could get whatever he wanted because he no longer had a diabetic living at home, he had broken down.

After a couple years, House and Cuddy had decided to move out because the apartment was too painful. Cuddy had jokingly told House this was just a plan to get him into a home (he was about 68 now) but he had just looked at her because nothing had seemed funny for two years. Eventually, they decided to move back into Cuddy's house. It was still under her ownership and seemed like the simplest thing to do.

The moving truck came a week after the reached the decision.

After the movers had packed up the final box, one of them had asked House if there was anything in the room with the door closed. Libby's room. House glanced at it; he hadn't been in there for two years; and he shook his head at the man. He didn't tell Cuddy. They left a few minutes later.

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That night, House couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in his familiar routine of an insomniac. Slumber had never come easy for him but it had drifted farther and farther away since Libby had died. So at night; while Cuddy snored quietly next to him; he would think. The most persistent question on his mind was whether Libby had known. Did she have too have trouble sleeping that night, knowing she wouldn't wake up in the morning? Did she pay extra attention to the sunset, knowing that she wouldn't wake up in the morning and see it rise? Did she open her window that night on purpose, knowing that she would need an easy exit? Did she wake up right before it happened, knowing she was only minutes away from another world?

Who was he kidding? He couldn't stay in bed. House rolled out and downed a few more Vicoden than necessary. Without knowing where he was going, he got in his car and just _drove. _Before he knew it, he was back at the apartment. They hadn't sold it, though he didn't know why.

Libby's room. There it was; just as he'd left it. Nothing had changed; it even smelled like her, the mixed fragrance of apples and flowers. Her bed was unmade. Her laundry was still in the basket. A cook-book was out, she had even doggy-eared a page. House opened it.

It was a wedding cake. Despite everything that had been happening; despite being mere _days _from death; she still had fantasies about marrying the boy of her dreams.

To tell the truth, he thought the cake was beautiful. Exactly what he would have chosen for her. Maybe for himself, if he was the marrying-type. Cameron had been one thing, but too much had happened.

He noticed a pale green piece of paper taped to the bottom of the page, folded up at least five times. He gently opened it up and heaved a sigh when he saw it was a note from Libby.

_Dear Dad,_

_I know a lot has happened and I know a lot's about to happen but this is the cake I was going to bake for my wedding. It sounds stupid; baking my own wedding cake; but I wouldn't have had it any other way. Don't mock me for being insane. I'll totally haunt you and switch all your Rolling Stone tees with polos from Lands End. _

_And yes, I know that you're not the marrying-type and whatever, BUT if you and Aunt Lisa ever "tie the knot" (yeah, I said it, watcha gonna do 'bout it? Huh? Huh?)_ _this should be your wedding cake. I think you'll like it. I guess the real bright side to me dying is you can have any kind of cake you want, and this one has lots of chocolate._

_Well, whatever you do, knot or nothing, fight the urge to be an ass and screw the whole relationship up. Otherwise, when you do finally kick the bucket (and by the way, I hope you give it a good dramatic kick…knock if over if you want to…it's probably much more fun than gently nudging it like I am) Mom and I are gonna make fun of you so bad, you'll be begging for mercy. Don't underestimate us._

_Ok, that's it then. Eat up! I love you…Libby._

House's jaw couldn't be any lower if he tried. How was it that a simple 200-word letter from his daughter simply wipe away all the pain? He walked back to his car in a daze and drove home in some kind of stupor, the note still clutched tightly in his hand. If he could crush paper, that thing would have been dust by now.

And despite his numb mind, House managed to realize something that would change the rest of his life; it was time to move on. Not to forget, just to move on.

He got back into bed and gave Cuddy a kiss on her cheek. He didn't think she was even awake but she rolled over and sat up. "Where have you been?"

"Doesn't matter."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and put her head back on the pillow.

"Hey, Leese?"

"What?" Her reply was muffled.

"You wanna marry me?"

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The ceremony was four months later. The only people in attendance were Wilson and Josh. It had been Wilson's idea to invite him, and to Cuddy's surprise, House agreed. But something about House had changed; something that Cuddy couldn't quite put her finger on. Oh well; some things were never meant to be understood.

After a short service, everyone enjoyed a delicious chocolate cake that House had chosen himself.

Life tasted sweet.


End file.
